


What Occurred In Raychester Castle

by fictionart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1890s, Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Classism, Drama, Earl Tony, F/M, First Class, Gen, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Master & Servant, Servant Peter, Servants, Slow Burn, hopefully, sicknesses, third class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2020-04-23 14:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionart/pseuds/fictionart
Summary: Lord Anthony Stark is the Earl of Raychester castle. He inherited it from his father when he died, and soon he'll be married to the lovely Lady Virginia Potts. His life the perfect example of Victorian values, everything was going the way it should have.Until one day, one of his lower servants worms his way into Tony's heart, and introduces him to a world Tony knew was there, but had never seen, and challenges the very way he viewed the world.Yet, it doesn't feel like such a mistake.---Or a historical AU of Tony Stark and Peter Parker set in 1890s fictional Britain, where Tony is an Earl and Peter is a lowly servant.Only a tiny bit inspired by Downton Abbey.





	1. The Angel and the Child

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, my historical AU.
> 
> I did a lot of research for this fic, so I hope it all paid off. However, I would like to note that though it would be historically accurate to include racism in this fic, I decided against it because for one, I don't like writing racism, ad two, I didn't want to take away from the plot which is going to focus heavily on classism. So Rhodey is going to be upper class, and characters like Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Flash Thompson, and Liz Allen are in service (ie. lower class) like Peter, but they actually rank higher than him (because yeah, even the servants had their own hierarchy.)

****

###  **Thursday, July 23rd, 1891**

Lord Anthony Stark was awakened every morning by his Valet at eight o’ clock promptly with his breakfast tray and his newspaper. This was the way it had always been, he had almost never been woken up any earlier or later, or woke up by himself.

So why, when his eyes had opened and he sat up in bed, was he alone in his room, with no tray, and no paper?

Looking at the clock, Tony saw that it was five minutes past eight. Odd. His staff was usually so punctual. It wasn’t as though he was mad, but he had hardly ever seen his staff run a moment later. His butler, Mr. Hogan, was very firm with the staff and liked to see things running smoothly. Something must have gone wrong this morning for the staff to be running so far behind.

Just then, there was a knock on his bedroom door, and his Valet, a young man by the name of Thompson, came in carrying his breakfast tray.

“My lord,” He greeted rather stiffly. It was one of the things Tony disliked about his Valet. He was far too formal, and while Tony understood that it was the way the lad had been taught to do things, it still unnerved him to no end.

“Good morning,” The Earl greeted, accepting his tray, placing it over his lap. 

“Good morning.”

“Running a little behind?”

Thompson stiffened, his back straightening. “Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord. Shall I run your bath?”

Seriously, this young man had been his Valet for nearly a year now and he still acted as though at any moment his job would be taken out from underneath him. “Yes, why don’t you do that while I read the paper.”

Thompson nodded and left.

Once he was gone, Tony noticed a few small envelopes on his tray. He picked one up, an envelope of a light blue shade, and sealed with pale pink wax decorated with a coat of arms depicting a knight’s helmet and two doves. The symbol of the Potts family crest.

Lady Virginia Potts was Tony’s intended. It was arranged, of course, by Tony’s uncle and the Baron of Millford Estate, Lord Obadiah Stane. Nonetheless, Tony did deeply admire Lady Virginia, or as he affectionately called her, Pepper. 

The letter was written to inform him that Pepper would be arriving at the end of this week to stay on holiday for the next month, and that she was travelling with a few members of her staff and her cousin, Mister James Rhodes. Tony smiled at that. Rhodes was a lifelong friend of his. They had been playmates when he was growing up.

Tony set the letter aside made a note to tell Mr. Hogan about that when they met after breakfast. The rest of the letters consisted of letters of correspondence from his friends, such as Lord Banner of Lyonhall and Lord Rogers of Woodsford. He moved onto his morning paper, picking up his cup of tea, which had cooled to the perfect temperature. His stocks were doing well, and there was no big news as of yet.

Thompson called him away from his bed to bathe, and then he got dressed and headed downstairs for a proper breakfast.

###### 

Tony met with Mr. Hogan in his study to discuss the running of the house, as they did everyday at exactly nine o’clock. It was comforting to see that his staff was running on time once again. Tony sat at his back, in a relaxed position.

“I plan to go into town this afternoon, just after lunch,” Tony said, 

“Very well, my lord.”

“I have no other plans for today. However some the weekend we are expecting the company of Lady Virginia Potts and her cousin Mister James Rhodes.”

“Anything else, my lord?”

“That’ll be all. Except, I am curious about one thing. Why was the staff so slow to start this morning?” Tony asked the Butler.

Mr. Hogan bowed his head in respect. “I am sorry for the inconvenience, my lord.”

“It was no inconvenience,” Lord Anthony assured him, “it was just unusual given how punctual the staff usually is.”

“Our Hall Boy has fallen ill, my lord,” Mr. Hogan explained. “Usually he takes the servants boots when they go to bed, and polishes and returns them by morning, however when the servants woke the had no shoes. It took some time to find them and start the morning tasks.”

Tony nodded in understanding. “Is the boy alright?”

Mr. Hogan shook his head grimly. “We don’t expect him to last the night, my lord. I’ll begin looking for his replacement as soon as we’re done here.”

That made Tony pause. “Won’t last the night?”

“I’m afraid so, my lord. I suspect that, if he had the money to afford a doctor and some medicine, he could make some form of recovery, but he hasn’t got the money to pay.”

Tony slumped back into his chair and thought. His mother had died because of a terrible misjudgment on both of their cases. Neither Tony nor his mother gave a second thought to the fact that she had felt under the weather for about a week. Neither thought to call the doctor, and that had ended up in Tony waking up late one night to the news that his mother was terribly ill, and that he must call for a doctor straight away. However, by that point it was too late. Tony had stayed by her side when she passed.

This boy did not deserve to die in this way, all because he himself could not afford to pay for a doctor's visit. He was.. he was...

“How old is this boy, did you say?”

“Thirteen, my lord.”

Thirteen. Still a boy, though not by many accounts. Old enough to work, though he didn’t have too much knowledge of the world. Too young to die, that was for certain.

“Bring the boy to one of the guest bedrooms, and send for the doctor. I’ll pay for the examination.”

“Sir,” Mr. Hogan protested, “I cannot ask you -”

“None of that, Mr Hogan. I have more money that I know well enough to do with. I can afford to make sure this boy remains in this world. Have him brought up to a guest room now, thank you. And let me know when he has been settled so I might check on him.”

Mr. Hogan bowed and left quickly.

After meeting with the housemaid and the cook, discussing the plans for the day, as well as the menu for the meals, and furthermore the upcoming arrival of Lady Potts and Mister Rhodes, Tony was left alone in his office.

As an Earl he had very few duties, but his main one was collecting the taxes from the people in the surrounding area. Two thirds of those taxes went to Queen Victoria, and parliament, and the remaining third was Tony’s main source of income. He also managed the farmland on the estate, which specialized in hay and oats, which was then purchased by the royal race grounds and fed to the racehorses there.

Tony busied himself with his work, leaning over a large census book, which included all of his taxpayers, marking who had paid, who owed how much money, and then dividing the amounts as dictated.

Before long he was interrupted by the door to his office being opened. Tony looked up to see Mr. Hogan standing in the doorway. The Butler bowed his head respectfully before addressing him. “The boy has been settled, my lord. I have assigned the Lady’s Maid to attend to him, as she has no one to attend to at the moment.”

Tony stood, and followed Mr Hogan down the hall leading away from his office, then up the grand staircase which led to the rooms. From there it was down another hallway to the guest chambers before they finally stopped in front of one of the doors, upon which Mr. Hogan knocked lightly before entering.

A young lady knelt beside the bed with a wet cloth, wiping away at a young boy’s dirty and sweaty face. When Tony’s presence was made known, the girl stood, and bowed her head.

“Elizabeth, please step out for a moment so the Master may see the boy for a moment.”

The girl nodded and left. Tony almost protested, the poor boy looked like he needed the cool cloth on his head.

The young lad was extremely pale, though it may mostly be from the sickness, however Tony suspected his natural color was quite light. He had mousy brown curls, which stuck to his forehead with sweat, and when his feverish eyes blinked open, Tony could see their deep brown color.

When the boy saw him, his eyes widened slightly, and Tony could see his muscles tense. He spotted a chair in the corner of the room and asked for Mr. Hogan to pull it up for him, so that he might sit next to the bed.

Tony took a deep breath, “Hello, lad. What is your name?”

The boy’s eyes shifted from him to Mr. Hogan who stood near the back of the room.

“You may speak to the Master,” The Butler assured him.

Turning his eyes back to Tony, the boy spoke in a groggy and misused voice, “My name is Peter Parker, sir.”

Tony smiled. ‘Sir’ was the wrong way to address him, but Tony didn’t mind one bit. It spoke to the naivety of the boy. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Peter Parker. How are you feeling?”

Peter appeared thoughtful, judging what to say to him for several moments, before settled on, “Not well, sir.”

“That’s all right,” The Earl assured him. He turned to Mr. Hogan, “Have you called for the doctor?”

“I sent the groom to fetch him, yes.”

Tony nodded, before turning back to the boy, “Alright then. Hopefully the doctor has some medicine for you, which will help you feel better.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The boy looked into his eyes, and Tony couldn’t discern what he saw in them. Some confusion, maybe. Gratitude. But mostly they were clouded and hazy with fever. It tugged on Tony’s heartstrings. The poor boy was in desperate need of help.

“You are very welcome, Peter.” He stood and spoke to Mr. Hogan, “I’ll be in my office until Luncheon, please alert me when the doctor arrives.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Leaving the room, with Mr. Hogan close at his heels, he paused while the Butler instructed the Lady’s Maid to go back in and continue working to bring down Peter’s fever. When Mr. Hogan had caught up to him, Tony spoke to him softly, but sternly.

“Do not correct him on calling me ‘sir.’”

Mr. Hogan looked baffled. “But, my lord, it is improper -”

“He may call me ‘sir’ if he pleases. Now, if you would, Mr. Hogan, please resume your duties.”

When Tony returned to his office, he wrote a letter back to Lady Potts, assuring her that he had received her correspondence, as well as sending his love, and tried to resume his work. His thoughts were clouded by the hazy, feverish brown eyes of the boy just up the stairs.


	2. There is a Green Hill Far Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a few references to medical practices in late 1890s Britain, however I could not find a lot of accurate scientific research on this, so if I'm wrong then... oh well.
> 
> This chapter is a lot longer than the last one, but expect all chapters to be around this length. I don't have a set word count i want for each chapter though, so some might be a lot longer than others. It all depends on what feels like the best place to stop.
> 
> I have the first 10 chapters of this fic roughly outlined though, so that makes my writing process a lot easier. Hopefully that means I can get a lot of chapters written much more quickly.

###  **Thursday, July 23rd, 1891**

“The Russian Flu,” The doctor said as they stood outside of the room Peter was staying in. “I’m afraid it’s been going on all over the world. I’ve written down some exact instructions on how to keep this contained just to him. This is a nasty bug, it’s wiped out a good portion of Europe. Don’t want it loose in your home.”

The doctor handed Lord Anthony a paper with the instructions on it. After glancing at it briefly, Tony gave it to Mr. Hogan who stood behind him to the right.

“As for treatment, I’ve prescribed Antipyrine, Quinine, and Salicylate of soda,” The doctor continued, “The Antipyrine and Quinine should keep him subdued and the Salicylate of soda has shown some favorable results in other cases. I would say the next 24 hours are the most critical, if he survives that much he should make a full recovery, and be back to work in a weeks time.”

“Is it terribly contagious?” Tony asked.

The doctor smiled grimly. “If you follow my instructions for keeping it contained, it shouldn’t spread.”

Tony nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”

“Best of luck to you, and the boy.” And with that, the doctor left.

Tony turned to the Butler. “Carry out his orders, I don’t want the disease spreading.”

Mr. Hogan nodded and left, leaving Tony alone outside of the boy’s room. He wanted to go in. He didn’t know why, but he was strongly to go into the room and see the boy again. Tony didn’t know what part of their first meeting triggered his emotions and pulled on his heartstrings to the point where he couldn’t stop thinking about the kid. The Earl of Raychester didn’t even know anything about him, their first meeting had been so brief, and the boy was so out of it with sickness and so preoccupied with the fact that he was speaking to the Master of the house in which he worked, that it wasn’t as though any real personality was being displayed.

Yet Tony had to physically hold himself from seeing him again for the entire day.

It was because he was a child, Tony was sure of it. There was something about the image of a child sick in bed that stuck in the minds of any man or woman. It was because he had a sense of duty as the master of the house, he had convinced himself. He felt a responsibility to this child to take care of him in his time of need.

However, if tony was being completely honest, he had no clue what drew him to this child like a current leading out to sea.

Giving in, Tony stepped forward and knocked on the door before entering. Once again, the Ladies Maid stood upon his entrance, stepping away from her duties to stand politely for the Earl.

“Stay,” he instructed her, “He needs to stay cool, and you’re the only one who can do that for him, between the two of us, I’ve just come to speak with him.”

“He’s sleeping, my lord.” She informed him, slowly resuming her place at the boys bedside.

“Ah,” Tony stood awkwardly in the doorway, “Well then, if you don’t mind, I would like to stay here, just for a moment or so.”

The Ladies Maid nodded, wiping Peter’s forehead with a wet cloth. Tony maneuvered himself to sit in a chair beside the bed, focusing on the boy’s face. He also ended up paying close attention to the girl. Her skin was a medium brown color, and she had dark hair, which was tied up into a bun and tucked underneath a white bonnet. He could tell she felt uncomfortable with his presence.

“What did you say your name was?” He asked the girl.

“I didn’t,” She said softly, “My name is Elizabeth Allen, though most of the staff calls me Liz.”

Yes, Tony had heard Mr. Hogan call her that earlier that day. “Did you know him at all?”

“Who? Him?” She asked, pointing to the inert boy on the bed, “No, I didn’t. His work doesn’t allow him to come in contact with us very much, and even when he does, most of us don’t talk to him.”

‘Us’ being the other servants, Tony deduced. It felt strange to him that in a community of servants who all worked together that none of the other servants would talk to this boy. “You don’t know anything about him? Anything at all?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry my lord.”

“What do his duties include?”

“Well, I know that he wakes up the earliest. He collects our boots after we all go to bed, and he wakes up early to polish them and return them to our rooms. He also polishes your boots, sir. That all needs to be done before we wake up. I know he sets the table for all of our meals, and he also waits on all of us. During the meals. Oh, and he empties the chamber pots of the male servants...” She trailed off, “Sorry, my lord, you probably didn’t want to hear about that.”

“It’s fine. It’s no wonder he caught the flu before anyone else. Chamber pots are an unsanitary business.”

Liz nodded silently, before refreshing the cloth and placing it back on the boy’s head.

Feeling awkward and out of place, Tony stood to leave, ready to make some excuse that he had to get ready for dinner, though there was no one to impress, and he would likely be eating alone, however the fluttering of the boys eyes stopped him.

“Elizabeth,” Tony said awkwardly, “give me a moment with him?”

The Ladies Maid nodded and left the room.

Once the door had closed, Tony smiled at the boy. “Hello again, Peter Parker.”

The boy’s head shifted slightly on the pillow, his eyes opened a little wider. “You’re still here?”

“I would stay ‘still’ here,” Tony said, sitting down again. “I took a small break to do my work and to eat my lunch.”

The boy hummed. “Did you like it? I’ve always wondered if you liked the food.”

Tony could tell that Peter wasn’t fully there. Judging by how alarmed he was that the Earl had been there yesterday in comparison to today’s sheer nonchalance, he would have to guess that Peter didn’t realise who he was speaking to. Not that Tony didn’t like it. I fact, the casualness in which the boy spoke to him warmed his heart.

“I enjoyed the lunch very much,” Tony assured him, “It was as delicious as always.”

“That’s nice,” The boy said softly, “sometimes I help cook.”

“Really?” Tony chuckled, “well then, that would explain why it’s so good.”

Peter let out a puff of breath. “That’s not why it’s good. It’s because Monsieur Beau learned all his recipe’s at home with his mother when he was little, all the way in Paris.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Peter yawned and snuggled into the pillow, “I only do what Monsieur Beau tells me. Otherwise the food would be terrible. I never learned to cook. I just cut to vegetables sometimes.”

Tony smiled. This boy really was quite the lad, something about the way he spoke made Tony grin. Tony didn’t get a lot of opportunities to speak plainly. Most of his conversations even with his closest friends were mostly about politics and gossip. It was the life of an Aristocrat.

Then the boy coughed harshly, and Tony was once again all to aware of the danger Peter was in. If he didn’t last the night...

“It’s too hot,” the boy complained.

“Shall I open a window?” Tony asked, “let some cool air in?”

He hummed, which Tony interpreted as a ‘yes,’ so he stood and crossed to the window, opening the shutters. The air was actually quite warm - since it was the height of summer, but the movement of the breeze must have felt wonderful on Peter’s skin, which was wet with sweat and the water from the basin.

“The fresh air may do you some good,” Tony said conversationally, “I’ve read that there are studies in parts of Europe on health standards that say that breathing natural air has many health advantages.”

When Tony turned back to look at the boy his eyes were at half mast, and his head lolled as if he was having trouble holding it up. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Peter asked, “You’re the only one who talks to me when I wake up. Everyone else just ignores me, and acts like I’m not there.”

Tony smiled. “Of course.”

When the boy had finally gone to sleep, Tony called the Ladies Maid back into the room, and went to his study, where Mr. Hogan was waiting for him.

“Have the doctors orders been carried out?” He asked.

“Yes, my lord, I have the housemaids disinfecting the whole of the castle.”

“Good,” Tony said. “I want to be informed as soon as the boy wakes up or if there is any change in his condition. That includes after I have gone to bed.”

Mr. Hogan gave him a strange look. “Of course, my lord.”

“And tell my Valet that I will be having another bathe before bed, I don’t want to risk catching the illness myself.”

“Yes, my lord.”

###### 

There was a knock on Tony’s door that night, and the Earl awoke to the sound of the door being opened. Mr. Hogan stood at attention in the doorway.

“It’s the boy, my lord. His condition as gotten much worse.”

Tony quickly got up, pulling on his robe and his slippers before making his way out of the room. He grabbed a book off of his bookshelf before he passed through the door. His feet led him to the room Peter was staying in, his eyes not even having to follow Mr. Hogan to be able to get there.

When he entered the room, the first thing he saw was Peter, the poor boy’s head flailing wildly on the pillows, his legs kicking against the mattress underneath the comforters. The Lady’s Maid kept a cloth held to his forehead, keeping her hand over it so that it didn’t fall off.

“His temperature is too hot,” Liz informed them.

“Pull back the blankets,” Tony instructed, moving to stand by his usual side of the bed and setting the book on the nightstand. He helped the Ladies Maid pull back the covers. “We need to cool him off, perhaps maybe even a cold bath would do him some good. Mr. Hogan, could you -”

“I’ll get the housemaids to prepare a bath right away, my lord.” said the Butler, quickly leaving the room to do so.

“It’s cold,” The boy whined incoherently, “It’s too cold.”

“Should we cover him up again, my lord?” The Ladies Maid asked.

“No, it’s just the fever. He’s too hot, that’s why everything else feels cold.” Peter threw his hand up, not conscious of his actions, and Tony caught it by the wrist, moving his fingers to press against it. “His pulse is to rapid, he needs to calm down.”

“Well, I don’t know how to do that,” Liz exclaimed, clearly frustrated though concerned.

Tony ignored her and held Peter’s hand in both of his larger ones. “Peter? Peter, can you hear me?”

Peter’s eyes focus on him for a moment, his thrashing slowing slightly. Tears run continuously down his flushed cheeks.

“I brought a book, do you want me to read it for you?” Tony asked softly. “I happen to know it’s a very good one.”

Peter gave no answer. Tony thought back to what the boy had said to him earlier that evening.

_You’re the only one who talks to me when I wake up. Everyone else just ignores me, and acts like I’m not there._

Maybe that’s what the boy needed, to calm himself down. Someone to talk, just to him. Tony remembered growing up, and how whenever he was sick, his mother would read to him, and even if he couldn’t understand the word, the constant drone of his mother’s voice comforted him.

Tony picked up the book, opening to the first page. “Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank,” he read, “and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice ‘without pictures or conversation?’ ...”

As Tony read, Peter’s thrashing stilled and his breaths became deeper and more consistent, every once in a while, the boy would cry out, or a whimper, but Tony continued to read, keeping his voice as low and as soothing as possible. He had almost finished reading the first chapter when Mr. Hogan came back into the room to inform him that the bath was ready, and Tony paused his reading.

Several servants came in to carry him from the room to the tub, and upon being placed in the water, clothes on, to spare his modesty in front of everyone, Peter began crying in earnest.

“Someone get him some water, he needs to stay hydrated.” Tony instructed, and one of the housemaids left quickly to do so.

Tony pulled out the book and began reading again, as the Ladies Maid continued to make sure his face stayed cool with the water. “She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way...”

When Peter finally stopped crying and protesting against the tub, and drank down a glass of water, Mr. Hogan dismissed the ladies so that they could dress the boy. Tony let Mr. Hogan do most of the work while he continued to read to him, and then helped carry the boy back to his room.

Tony read to the boy, who was now restlessly sleeping, for the rest of the night. The servants had all left, and Tony was the only one there, and before Tony even realized it, he had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed, his head resting on the mattress by the boy’s legs, which were once again covered by the comforter.

He did not wake until morning.


	3. The Sea Hath it's Pearls

###  **Friday, July 24th, 1891**

Peter woke up drenched in his own sweat. His eyelids were heavy, and his limbs were settled comfortably over the bed. He was tucked underneath the covers, perfectly situated. Peter didn’t think he had ever felt more relaxed and at ease in his life.

After much convincing Peter opened his eyes. He was not in his normal room. No, this room was a far cry from his dark, cold stone room, with his low lying, small, wrought iron bed. This room was grand, decorated in white and gold, with painted wood accents and a shiny patterned wallpaper. It was well lit, even with none of the lights on, as the window was opened and the early morning sun shone through, causing the gold accents in the room to glitter.

For a moment Peter was concerned he was still dreaming, not quite sure where he was, but he looked down and saw the Earl of Raychester, _his master_ , sound asleep at the foot of the bed, a book next to his head held open by his hand which rested on top of the pages.

Peter, not knowing what to do, tried to sit himself upright, but the movement of his legs unintentionally woke the man sleeping next to them.

Lord Anthony sat up, groaning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and Peter’s whole body tensed up. 

“I’m so sorry, sir!” Peter exclaimed, covering his mouth with his hands. “I didn’t mean to wake you!”

The Earl, who was stretching his neck, blinked and focus on Peter, before breathing out a sigh of relief. “There’s no need to be sorry, Peter. How are you feeling?”

“Huh?” Peter suddenly noticed his dry throat and his aching joints. “Um, I’m fine, sir.”

“Really? Because your voice sounds like the dead,” the man leaned over to feel his forehead with his hand. “Well, at least your fever is broken.” 

“Why were you asleep here, sir?” Peter asked, “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I wanted to stay with you,” The Master explained. “For a moment there we weren’t sure whether you would live or die.”

“Oh,” Peter said softly, his stomach turning. He’d almost _died._

“No matter,” The Master said in a chipper manner, having noticed the frightened expression dawning on Peters’s face. “You are alive and well. Look at you, you’re practically glowing with health.”

Peter nodded shakily.

“How about we play a game,” The man suggested, standing and stretching. He went to the corner of the room, where a beautifully carved wooden desk was waiting. Opening one of the drawers, he pulled out a deck of cards.

“Shouldn’t you go back to your room, sir?” Peter asked, he looked at the clock that sat at his bedside. It was just past six o’clock, when Peter would normally wake up. “Eugene will be up with your tray in a little less than two hours.”

“Perfect time for a game then,” He insisted. “Even so, I think I’ll take breakfast in here.”

Peter tilted his head, slightly confused. “Why?”

The question caught the Earl off guard. “Well... I want to make sure I’m alright.”

“Well, I am alright, sir.” Peter insisted.

The older man’s face fell, and he stood, making his way to the door “Oh, I see. Well, in that case I suppose I will go back to my room -”

“Wait!”

Lord Anthony turned around.

“It’s not that I don’t want you here, sir,” Peter insisted. “I just... I don’t know why you want to be here. I’m just your servant. I got sick and now I’m better. What business do you have with me?”

The Master sat back down, sighing deeply. “If I’m being perfectly honest, I do not know the answer to that question other than the fact that I live alone in a very big house with only myself to keep me company. Being here with you will at least give me someone to talk to. Besides, I really am concerned with your health.”

 _Because you’re his servant,_ Peter reasoned with himself, _He doesn’t want his staff to fall behind again._

“Okay,” Peter said, “What kind of game did you want to play, sir?”

The Earl smiled and opened the box of cards. “What kind of games do you know?”

###### 

After a couple rounds of whist, Thompson came in with Tony’s breakfast tray, looking a little uncomfortable at the sight of his Master playing games with one of the lower servants. Tony paid no mind and decided to move onto _Peter Coddle,_ to make the boy laugh, and _District Messenger Boy_ , which Peter was very good at, beating Tony twice in a row.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before?” Tony asked him, “You must be very clever to win at a game like this, Mr. Parker.”

Peter giggled.

“What is so funny?”

“There’s no need to call me ‘Mr. Parker’, sir. My name is Peter.”

“I know it is,” Tony said, “And there is no need for you to call me ‘sir’.”

“Yes there is! There is every reason for me to call you ‘sir’! I -” Peter felt his face go pale. “Oh God, I’m not supposed to call you ‘sir’ I’m supposed to call you ‘my lord’. I’m so sorry, my lord!”

The older man laughed. “Goodness, goodness, child. That’s not what I meant! I do not wish for you to call me by any title.”

Peter frowned. “Than what do you wish me to call you?”

“My friends call me ‘Tony.’”

“I can’t call you that!” The boy insisted “It’s too informal!”

“Fine then, how about ‘Mister Stark’, since you think that ‘Mr. Parker’ is too formal for you.”

“I don’t think so, my lord.”

The man’s smile fell off his face, “Why not?”

“Because after today you and I will part ways,” Peter said softly, “I’ll go back downstairs, and you’ll stay up here, with your fiance and your friends, and you’ll forget about me.”

“No,” Tony said softly, slightly offended. “How can I prove to you that that won’t happen?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” Peter said in an almost heartbroken voice.

“Well, I will.” He said in a determined voice.

They sat in silence for a while, making both of them regret that they had said anything at all to disturb their blissful happiness.

Peter decided to change the subject. “Last night, you were reading to me. I don’t remember much of it, but it was nice.”

Tony reached over to the nightstand, where the book had been lying untouched for the entire morning. “It’s called ‘The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland’. It’s a good book, however it’s mostly for children. You can keep it if you’d like.”

Peter blushed. “I- I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know how to read.”

“Well, then I’ll teach you,” Tony said, “And we’ll read it together, from the beginning.”

“You don’t have to do that, my lord.”

“I will,” Tony insisted. “And because you can’t learn to read in an afternoon, you’ll have to see me regularly for your lessons.”

Peter opened his mouth to object, but the door to the room opened, cutting off his protests. Mr. Hogan came through the door, bowing respectfully. Peter blushed, embarrassed to be seen by the man who was in charge of him speaking so plainly with the Master of the House.

“Mr. Hogan,” Tony greeted.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Mr. Hogan replied.

“Afternoon?” Tony said, shocked. He looked at Peter, smiling. “Well then, time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

“My lord,” Mr. Hogan interrupted, “I would like to remind you that we haven’t met to discuss your visitors this weekend, or any other matters of the household. I also must tell you that lunch is ready for you in the dining room.”

“Can’t it be brought up here?” Tony asked.

The Butler hesitated. “Sir, I might I remind you that you also have a lot of work to do, and staying in this room all day isn’t good for your health.”

“Well, what about the boy’s health?” Tony countered.

“He may benefit from some rest.”

Tony looked back to Peter. He noticed how the boys eyes were half closed, and how he subconsciously rubbed the sleep out of them. 

“Right then,” Tony stood, placing the book beside the bed. “I’ll leave this hear, and after I’ve completed my work, and you’ve gotten some rest, I’ll come back and read it to you.”

Tony turned to the Butler. “Any objections?”

Mr. Hogan bowed his head. “No, my lord.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.” Tony sat down on the bed beside Peter’s legs, placing a hand over his ankle over the covers. “Get some rest. I’ll be back, I promise.”

And with that, Lord Anthony left the room.

###### 

“We received correspondence from Mister Rhodes.” Mr. Hogan informed him. “He and Lady Potts will arrive mid-day tomorrow.”

“Yes, that’s all well and good.” Tony said, hastily working over his census books, marking and checking.

The Butler was silent for a long moment. Tony looked up and saw that his expression, though almost unreadable, portrayed something that resembled scolding, as though the man were talking to a small child rather than an Earl, as well as his employer.

“Something to share, Mr. Hogan?” Tony asked.

“Only that I hope you realise this means that you won’t be able to spend time up in one of the guest rooms, doting after a boy you only met yesterday.”

If Mr. Hogan were on anyone else’s staff, he might have been sacked for saying such a bold statement. Luckily for him, Tony didn’t mind much, as he had known Mr. Hogan for a long time, and he liked when his servants showed some signs of having a backbone.

He leaned back in his chair. “Yes, Mr. Hogan, I do understand that.”

“And you understand that you won’t be able to for the remainder of the time that your guests will be here.”

“Yes.”

“You also understand that by the time said guests leave, the doctor has informed me, that the boy will be well enough to get back to work.”

“Preposterous,” Tony exclaimed, sitting forward, “When I am unwell, I’m bedridden for at least a week.”

“Well, most of your work can be completed from your bed, my lord.” Mr. Hogan argued. “Peter’s cannot.”

“He’s a child!”

“He also has no family, my lord. I’m sorry, but it’s the way of the world. He must work to make a living for himself.”

Tony huffed out a breath. “Does he get any breaks?”

“A couple,” Mr. Hogan replied, “If he completes all his duties.”

“For how long?”

“Roughly an hour, though there’s always work to be done, and oftentimes he ends up helping the kitchen maids with their duties.”

Tony propped up his head with his hand, leaning over his desk. “Would it be all too inappropriate to have him come see me during his breaks?”

“No, my lord, as long as he gets his work done.” Mr. Hogan said, his expression weary. “However, I must ask that you leave the choice up to him, and not force him to spend _his_ free time to entertain you.”

“Of course not,” Tony was offended at the very idea, “I wouldn’t force him to do anything.”

“Then make sure he knows he has a choice,” The Butler advised. “May I ask why he is so...”

The man seemed to be searching for the right word.

“You want to know why he has captured my attention?” Tony prompted.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I don’t know the answer to that question, Mr. Hogan. He is a child, I suppose one way or another they have a way of worming into someone’s heart.”

“Forgive me my lord, but you never seemed the type to let a child in so easily.”

“I’m sorry I surprised you, Mr. Hogan.”

“I just hope that you remember he is a child, my lord, and not play with his emotions.”

###### 

When Tony came back to Peter’s room later that night after he had eaten his dinner, the boy was awake, sitting up in his bed with the book sitting open in his lap. He looked up at Tony when he heard the door open.

“You came back,” He marveled.

“I said I would.”

“Yes, but...” The boy trailed off.

“I thought you said you couldn’t read,” Tony said.

“I can’t, I was just looking at the pictures,” Peter looked back down at the artwork decorating the pages.

“You didn’t look too far, I hope, or else you might spoil the story.”

Peter blushed. “Um...”

“So you did look farther.”

“Maybe, but it didn’t spoil anything. In fact it just made me more curious.”

“Well, if there’s anything this story does is make you curious, which i think is a very good thing.” Tony sat on the bed next to Peter, and took the book from him. “How about the lessons wait for another day, and for now I just read for you?”

“When will you teach me then?” Peter asked.

“I talked with Mr. Hogan, you’re welcome to come to my office during your free time,” Tony announced, “Though I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after this weekend, since I have company.”

Peter looked at him in wonder and confusion.

“Of course, only if you want to. And we might even play a few games if we’re able, did you know you’re the only person who’s ever beaten me at whist?”

“Thank you, my lord.” Peter said quietly.

Tony studied the boy’s features, his young eyes, no longer clouded with fever and now full of curiosity. His brown hair naturally curls and framed his youthful round face. Tony thought he could even spot freckles decorating the boy’s cheeks.

“It’s not a problem at all, Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Coddle is a game that is basically the original version of Mad Libs, and District Messenger Boy is a game where the players start as lowly district messenger boys and climb up the social latter and career latter to become the company president, based off of the popularity of rags-to-riches novels...


	4. When the Mists Have Rolled Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there is references to smoking - I don't mean for it to have a negative reflection on that character, it's just that smoking was extremely common people of all social classes.
> 
> Also, if Tony and Pepper's relationship doesn't seem very realistic, or out of character - that's because they're in the stage of the relationship before things get real - the honeymoon phase, if you will. They are 'heart eyes' in love. Pretty soon, they're going to have to work through some real life problems together.

###  **Saturday, July 25th, 1891**

Lord Anthony welcomed his guests around noon the next day, after having spent his breakfast with Peter before leaving him in the guest room.

Leaving Peter mad Tony’s heart feel almost heavy. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the child all by himself, but on top of that Tony also knew he was losing his most interesting company. As much as he loved his fiancé and his best friend, they had both been rather beaten down by the world and had the same sort of straightforward, no nonsense attitudes as most of the aristocracy.

Tony himself liked to think that he avoided that sad, boring worldview his dear friend and fiancé had, though he himself had not had an easy life. Though he could never be sure. Maybe he would ask Peter when he came for his reading lessons on Monday...

However, if there was one childish thing that the aristocracy still allowed themselves to enjoy, it was gossip. At the moment, Tony didn’t get a lot of contact with his friends who lived farther away - not too far away that they weren’t in touch and didn’t call upon each other from time to time, but far enough away that they couldn’t meet for afternoon tea - though he suspected that would change when he married Pepper.

Lady Virginia was an extremely social creature, who knew a lot about politics and was very well read. It was one of the reasons Tony liked her so much - she wasn’t like most women who were, for lack of kinder words, rather stupid. (It wasn’t their fault, Tony knew, given how oppressed women were, but it didn’t exactly make them good company.) Pepper would probably make sure Tony got out of Rochester Castle more to visit his friends, and would likely hold many dinner parties and social gatherings. Once Tony married her, Raychester castle would not be very quiet anymore.

Secretly, Tony loved the idea of it. He did get rather lonely, and perhaps it was part of the reason why his mind kept wandering to the boy in the guest room upstairs...

“... and of course Thomas and Jane were married last spring.” James Rhodes said passively, a glass of champagne in hand. They were sitting in the ladies drawing room, even though there were more men than ladies. It just wasn’t appropriate for them to meet in the men’s smoking room. The ladies drawing room hadn’t gotten much use after Tony’s mother died, but he made sure it was kept clean and suitable for guests. Now that Pepper was visiting it was finally getting some use.

“Oh, that was a beautiful ceremony. Anthony and I attended it together,” Pepper commented, placing a gentle hand on top on Tony’s forearm.

“Ah, yes, Thor and his wife.” Tony said, sipping his drink.

“His name is Thomas, not ‘Thor,’” Pepper chastised, giving him a look that meant _watch your tongue._

James laughed. “Tony has always been one for nicknames. Thomas is ‘Thor,’ I’m ‘Rhodey’, and you’re ‘Pepper.’ Where he got your nickname, I’ll never know.”

“And I’ll never tell,” Tony countered, “Though I will say I mean it with the utmost affection.”

Pepper gave him a loving smile. “Oh, I don’t mind your nicknames, I just hope you don’t call Thomas ‘Thor’ as a manner of teasing.”

“How could it be? Thor is one of the most powerful gods in Norse mythology, and with Thomas’s family name being ‘Odinson’ it seemed only fitting.”

Thomas Odinson was the son of a Marquis. He had not yet inherited the title, since his father was not yet dead, however it was speculated that it wouldn’t be long before Thomas took on the role, given the current Marquis’s age. His recent marriage solidified the fact.

“Tony and I have known Thomas since we were very young,” Rhodey explained. “He is well aware of his nickname.”

“However, I do not pretend that his brother Lucas’s nickname was in good fun at all,” Tony said. “We called him ‘Loki,’ since he was always getting into trouble.”

“While I do not condone teasing, that one I understand,” Pepper asked. “Have you heard Lucas is in prison again?”

“No,” said Rhodey, “What for?

“He stole a precious gem, a sapphire I think, and tried to sell it off on the black market. What’s worse was that it was a family heirloom.”

“Which family?”

“His own.”

“Good lord. Well, enough about Lucas,” Rhodey interrupted, “Has you heard the news about Steve?”

“Which Steve?” Tony asked.

“Lord Rogers of Woodsford.” 

Steve Rogers on had just recently inherited his title, he was an Earl, much like Tony. The two had been raised alongside each other, though Tony had never gotten very close with Steve - especially not as close as he was to Rhodey. It had a little to do with the fact that Tony’s own father had held the young Steve to such high esteem, the late Earl of Raychester had hardly ever acknowledged his own son at all.

“What news?” Pepper asked.

“He’s engaged to Margaret Carter, the daughter of Lord Carter of Islefeild.”

“How lovely!” His fiancé exclaimed, “You should hold a dinner and invite them over, Thomas and Jane too. We can talk about weddings and married life.”

Tony winced. “No offense to you, my love, but I don’t think the men would enjoy talking about weddings the entire time.”

“Well you wouldn’t have to,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes, “we can talk about it briefly at the table, then afterward you can take the men to the smoking room, and the ladies and I can discuss it further here.”

“Very well,” Tony decided. “I’ll send invites on Monday, and have Mr. Hogan prepare for guests next Saturday. Just dinner.”

“I’ll sit that one out, if you don’t mind.” Rhodey said, standing to look out the window at the setting summer sun.

“Not at all,” The Earl told him, “You wouldn’t quite fit in with the theme of ‘weddings.’”

Rhodey laughed, then changed the subject. “How is Obadiah?”

“Ill, last I heard,”said Tony. “Though he’s on the mend. Nothing serious. After his health improves, he tells me he plans on going to Austria, returning in September, for the wedding, then onto Denmark until a week or so before Christmas. Then he’ll stay here until spring of the new year.”

Rhodey’s eyebrow raised into his hairline. “He has quite the plans.”

Tony waved a hand in dismissal. “You know how he is. He never settles, and he wants to see the world before it's too late for him.’”

“Oh, he’s so dramatic,” Pepper commented.

“My darling, Obadiah is many things, but dramatic is not one of them.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rhodey said. “And the doctors have assured you there’s nothing terribly wrong?”

For a moment, Tony forgot they were talking about Obadiah. He almost told them that he wasn't expecting the doctor until tomorrow, to check on Peter. Once again, his mind was wandering. _Is Peter terribly bored without me there? I hope he is still feeling better than the other night..._

“Obadiah is fine,” Tony promised, “Just a nasty cold, I assume.”

Tony looked at the clock, searching for an excuse to go back upstairs. “Were you hoping to do anything tomorrow. I have an enormous pile of work to do, so you may have to excuse me in the morning -”

“Oh, darling, can’t the work wait until Monday?” Pepper asked, snaking a hand around his upper arm. “I haven’t seen you in so long, and I’m not eager to take my eyes off you.”

“I was hoping we could go for a ride,” Rhodey added, “The weather has been so lovely as of late.”

Tony sighed. “Well, fine then, but I’m blaming you if I spend the rest of my week up to my eyes in paperwork.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rhodey cheered. “A ride tomorrow morning then, and in the evening we can go into town, perhaps Lady Virginia will see something she likes for the wedding.”

###### 

###  **Monday, July 27th, 1891**

Peter woke up once again in his basement room. He laid on his thin mattress on his iron frame bed which was just wide enough to fit his body if he laid flat on his back. The air was cold and damp, and the only light that the room offered came from a small window near the ceiling.

His fairytale life had ended last night. The doctor had informed him that he was healthy enough to begin work again, and Mr. Hogan escorted him downstairs, with a flurry of housemaids cleaning up the room behind them. 

Today, it was back to work. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling on his clothes and his boots. In the corner of his room there was a pile of the servants boots, which he had collected the night before. Gathering them into his arms, he carefully made his way out the door and into the hall.

Moving quietly, as to not wake anyone, Peter made his way outside, sparing a glance at the clock in the hallway. Six o’clock. Right on schedule.

Once outside, he pulled up his stool and starting mixing the black paste he would use to polish the shoes. It was a mixture of sweet oil, vinegar, treacle, and lamp black, which he would scoop out into the palm of his hand and wipe onto the boots to hide stains or signs of aging. When he was done, he would place each pair of boots out to dry by the wall stone wall.

He was almost done polishing the boots, when his silent, focused state was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Peter looked up to see Eugene Thompson towering over him, glaring a little. Eugene, out ranking most of the servants, and having higher pay than most as well, was wearing his second pair of boots, which he boasted about on the regular. “So, I see the spoiled brat is finally back where he belongs instead of playing Princess in the Tower.”

“Good morning, Eugene,” Peter said conversationally, unfazed. He returned back to his work. “Could you tell me the time?”

“Quarter till seven,” Eugene sounded agitated, almost angry.

“What are you doing up so early?” Peter asked, “If I were you I would rest for as long as possible.”

Eugene pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a match. “Well, you would know all about ‘resting’ now, wouldn’t you.”

“What is your problem?” annoyance was now creeping into Peter’s voice.

“My problem is that you got a little weekend vacation, while the rest of us went four whole days taking care of our own waste and polishing our own shoes every morning, just because the Master, for whatever reason decided you were too delicate to power through your chores while ill. Do you have any idea how disgusting it was, and how exhausted the entire staff was from having to wake up early every day?”

“Yes, I do know,” Peter countered. “In fact, it’s my job, and I have to do it everyday.”

“You might want to watch your tone, rat!” Eugene was almost at the point of yelling now. “I outrank you, you don’t get to speak to me that way.”

Peter ducked his head, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything else, not wanting to make matters worse.

Eugene didn’t feel the same way. “Plenty of us on staff have had to work even when we don’t feel well, and you’re no exception. Pathetic. What makes you think a lowly hall boy deserves some kind of special treatment?”

Peter didn’t respond.

“Answer me when I talk to you!”

Peter looked up at him, his expression stony. “I don’t think I deserve any form of special treatment. But for whatever reason, his lordship thought otherwise, so maybe I’m not the one you should be asking.”

Eugene sneered, and kicked his at the mud on the ground, splattering the boot Peter was working on with mud. “You missed a spot.” he growled, turning away and walking back into the servants hall. “And you better hurry, the rest of staff wakes up in 10 minutes.”

Peter sighed, wiping as much mud off the shoe as possible, leaning over it to mix some more polish.

###### 

Tony smiled as he watched Lady Potts’s carriage disappear on the horizon. It wasn’t that he was happy to see Pepper and Rhodey leave - in fact it was the opposite. He rarely got to see them anymore, and he was looking forward to next weekend when Pepper would be back for dinner, along with his other friends.

However, Tony was smiling now, because he could finally ask the question that he had been itching to ask since Friday night.

He turned to his Butler, “Mr. Hogan -”

“The boy is fine, my lord. He returned to work this morning, and has been getting on quite well.”

Tony nodded. “And, has he mentioned anything... about his reading lessons?”

Mr. Hogan shook his head. “Do understand, my lord, that he has a lot of work to catch up on. He may be quite busy for the next few days.”

“Well, ask him, if you can. Tell him I would appreciate his company.”

“Of course, my lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you're upset because there wasn't a ton of moments with Pepper and Rhodey - don't worry there is going to be more to come.


	5. Rescue the Perishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of my readers know that this story is meant to be pretty long. I’ve outlined the first 12 chapters, and they haven’t even reached some of the huge plot points. The story is at least going to stretch the span of two years - hopefully reaching five years, and then we’ll see where we are at that point. So buckle up - we’re in for the long-haul.
> 
> Also I feel as though I forgot to mention.  
> Peter is 13  
> Ned is 15  
> Michelle is 14  
> Eugene is 21
> 
> Also the cook, Mrs. Willis, is and Original Character. I ran out of people from Midtown to make staff members.

###  **Monday, July 27, 1891**

“What was it like?” Edward Leeds asked while he and Peter stood outside near the servants entrance on their break. It was half-past two, Peter had no pressing duties to attend to, and Edward, the second footman, or ‘Ned’ to his friends, had finished clearing the table after the Lord of Raychester had finished his lunch. It was hardly a large task at the moment, considering it was just his lordship who was eating.

“What, nearly dying?” said Peter, taking a bite out of the apple he was snacking on.

“No, you meater, what was it like speaking to his lordship?”

“It was odd,” Peter admitted. “For the most part, he read to me, and we played a couple of games.”

“Games?” Ned asked, shocked.

“Yes, whist, Peter Coddle, and District Messenger Boy.”

“I’ve heard of whist, Eugene and Liz play it sometimes after dark,” Ned said. “But I haven’t heard of the other two.”

“I they’re American. I even won a couple of rounds.”

“Amazing, is that all you did?”

“We spoke quite a bit as well,” said Peter, “On several occasions he asked how I was feeling. I got the impression that he was only there to make sure his staff would remain healthy and were running his house well.”

“I don’t think so,” Ned commented. “If that were all, he would have just stopped in a couple of times. He wouldn’t have played games with you, for who knows how long.”

“It was a couple of hours,” Peter admitted, “And he did promise to teach me to read.”

“Really? That is - I’m amazed, Peter. When is he going to start teaching you?”

“I’m sure he’s already forgotten,” Peter insisted. “He let me keep the book though. I like looking at the pictures. But I’m sure he wouldn’t want me upstairs, really Ned. I’m the lowest of the low, I’m on the bottom of the pecking order. It’s a wonder you even speak to me, otherwise I would have no other friends.”

“What are you two doing out here!” a voice yelled from below them. The servants entrance was a cast iron gate just above a stone staircase leading down to the basement of the house, where the servants quarters were. At the bottom of the stairs, just in front of the door, Eugene Thompson stood, waiting on the landing looking up at them at the top of the stairs.

“We’re on our break,” Ned explained

“Who says you get a break?”

“Um, Mr. Hogan did, Eugene. He knows we’re up here, we come up here everyday, when I’m not busy.”

“Yes, well the hall boy shouldn’t having a break, now should he. Not after all the trouble he put us through during these last four days, he deserves to be downstairs, helping the kitchen maids, or the scullery maids.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s for Mr. Hogan to decide,” Ned started to say, but Peter cut him off.

“No, Ned, he’s right. I’ve had enough time off, I should be helping as much as I can.”

“Yeah, and in that time off you almost died.” Ned protested.

“It’s fine, Ned.” Peter opened the gate and began to make his way down the stairs. Ned followed him, and Peter didn’t protest. He tried to ignore the smug look on Eugene’s face.

Behind him, he could tell that Ned didn’t mind talking back to him. “Shouldn’t you be attending to his lordship, Eugene.”

“He hasn’t rang,” The older boy grit out between his teeth.

“He could have rang while you were out here, and you would never have noticed.”

Eugene growled and shoved past them, finally leaving them alone.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Ned.” Peter chastised.

Ned looked at him in shock. “Seriously, Peter? You’re just going to let him walk all over you?

“He outranks us both, Ned.” Peter kept his voice low, “And he works with the Master for most of the day, one word to him and you and I would have to seek alternative employment.”

“I don’t think he has that kind of power,” Ned insisted, but Peter didn’t respond.

When they had reached the kitchen, they found the cook, Mrs. Willis, working over the stove, already starting on that night’s dinner, the kitchen maids, Betty Brant and Sally Avril, chopping vegetables and cleaning duck meat, and Michelle Jones, the scullery maid, at the sink washing dishes.

“Can I help at all?” Peter asked the room. He got very few responses. Mrs. Willis completely ignored him, while Sally and Betty looked up but returned to their work. Sally even rolled her eyes. 

Peter’s heart fell, it wasn’t as though he was sad that he wouldn’t get to work, he was just put out by the staff’s reaction to him asking. He wasn’t the most well liked downstairs, and he supposed his ‘vacation’ as Eugene called it, didn’t win him any favors.

He was just about to leave when Michelle looked up from the sink, made eye contact, and jerked her head, signalling for him to come help her. Peter looked back at Ned, silently telling him he could leave, before going over to help her.

“Usually I would be done by now,” Michelle explained, “It’s not normally so much work since it’s only the Master, but today’s there’s extra dishes from the servants lunch. This is usually when I’m supposed to start my break.”

“It’s supposed to be my break too,” Peter explained.

Michelle looked at him in confusion. “Then why are you helping me?”

Peter shrugged, picking up one of the dishes and scrubbing the remnants of food from its surface. “I feel that, since I had so much time off, I should be helping instead of taking my time off.”

Michelle gave him a strange look, before turning her attention back to her work. “From what I heard, you almost died.”

“Well, I feel fine now.”

They were quiet for a while, while they scrubbed at plates and bowls, laying them out to dry.

“Oh,” Michelle said out of nowhere, “And thank you. I know I’m supposed to say that, but I’ve never really been the best at manners.”

“It’s fine,” Peter said, “I don’t mind.”

“Helping? Or my poor manners?”

“Both.”

With the two of them working together, the work only took another half of an hour. They were drying the last dish when Mr. Hogan stepped into the kitchen.

“Mr. Parker, if you have a moment.” The man gestured to the empty hallway, prompting Peter to follow him. Peter looked over to Michelle, who shrugged and took the dish away from him.

Once they were alone in the hall, Peter asked. “Am I in trouble, sir? I’ve been trying to help around and make up for lost time but -”

“You are not in trouble, Peter,” The Butler assured him. “I’ve only come to inform you that the master would be most pleased if you joined him in his study when you have any free time.”

Peter’s mouth went dry. “Oh, I’m... I’m so sorry, I didn’t think he was serious, I-”

“It’s no trouble, Peter,” Mr. Hogan gave him a sympathetic look.

“It’s just...” Peter trailed off. “I didn’t want to look like a fool, if he hadn’t been serious...”

“I understand,” Mr. Hogan said, “It’s currently quarter past three, I’ll give you time off until half past four, but then you’ll need to be right back here to resume your duties.”

“But sir,” Peter protested, “At half past three I have to set the table for tea, with Michelle -”

“I know, Peter. I think she can manage it by herself for today, so long as you do it alone tomorrow.”

“But I’ve already wasted everyone’s time,” Peter argued. “I’ve been lying in bed for the past four days and -”

“And in that time you have been deathly ill,” Mr. Hogan said, “Look, if you don’t wish to see the Master on a regular basis, as he wishes, I will tell him so. However, it would be wise for you to visit him just this once, if that is truly the case.”

Peter pursed his lips, then nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Hogan. I guess I’ll let you know.”

He turned and made his way toward the stairs leading up into the main house.

“Parker!” Eugene’s voice called behind him. Peter turned to make a comment, but Mr. Hogan had beat him to it.

“Mr. Parker is doing exactly as I’ve told him to, Eugene. However, I seem to recall that you are meant to be in the stables, informing the groom that the Master will need his horse ready for an evening ride.”

Peter had to hold back a laugh upon seeing the horrified, caught look on Eugene’s face.

###### 

Tony had just about finished his work, when he heard a soft knock on the door to his study. He didn’t answer, didn’t stand to go to the door, didn’t call out for the person on the other side to come in. He assumed it was Mr. Hogan, and Mr. Hogan always came in on his own after knocking.

No one came in.

Looking up from his work quizzically, Tony stared at the door in confusion.

There was another soft knock, and Tony hadn’t noticed it the first time, but it was soft, and tentative. Almost afraid.

_Peter._

Tony almost knocked over his chair in his hurry to stand up and open the door. 

Just as he suspected, standing at the other side of the door was the young boy, just tall enough that his head reached his shoulder, with mousy brown curls, and deep brown eyes. Peter Parker looked much healthier than when Tony had last saw him.

“Peter,” Tony greeted, unable to stop the smile that stretched across his face.

“I - um...” Peter trailed off, his hands fidgeting nervously. “Hello, my lord.”

“Oh, none of that. If you insist on not calling me by my given name, at least don’t call me ‘my lord’ every other sentence.”

“O-oh,” Peter stuttered, “I’m sorry, my- I’m sorry.”

Tony sighed, deflating a little. “I don’t mean to chastise you Peter, if you’re terribly uncomfortable with addressing me a certain way, I won’t stop you.”

“O-okay.”

Tony stepped aside, allowing Peter space to come into the room. “Come in, and we can begin your reading lesson.”

“Okay.”

Peter entered the room cautiously, looking around and marveling at the gilded, elegant room. It was so starkly different from anything the downstairs had to offer, and to Peter's great surprise it was even more beautiful than the guest room he had been put up in.

Tony sat down on an emerald green sofa, with gold-painted wood. Even the upholstery seemed to shimmer. “Come sit,” the Earl urged, patting the seat beside him.

“I’m not sure I should,” Peter stuttered. “It’s all so grand.”

Tony huffed out a laugh, “I wouldn’t say grand. You should see the royal Palace.”

Peter cautiously took a seat next to Tony, his muscles tense, hoping he wasn’t dirtying anything just by being there. “You’ve been to the Royal Palace?” Peter asked, astonished.

“Indeed, I was invited by Queen Victoria herself,” said Tony, “Granted, it was my father who was invited, so my mother and I went along with him. I’ll admit it isn’t my happiest memory, but the things I saw that day were magnificent.”

Peter was enthralled, unconsciously leaning closer with his mouth agape as Tony went on. 

“But never mind that,” Tony shrugged, “You’re here to learn, if we can’t have a little fun as well, here.” He leaned forward, picking up a notebook from the tea table. He leafed through it before he found a page, and ripped it out. He handed it to Peter.

Peter looked at the page. “It’s blank, sir.”

“Very observant,” Tony chuckled, picking up a pen from the table. “That’s because we’re going to use it to practice your alphabet.”

“Writing? I thought you were teaching me how to read?”

“I’m teaching you both,” Tony explained, “It’s easiest to learn them at the same time. Now...”

Using the closed notebook as a hard surface, Tony took the paper and wrote two big, bold, letter ‘A’s, one capitalised, and one lower case, before sliding it over to Peter.

“That is a letter ‘A’.”

“This?” Peter asked, circling both letters with his finger.

“No, they’re both the letter ‘A’, one is just capitalised, and the other is lower case.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Grammer, but that is a whole other lesson within itself. What I want you to do, is with your pen, try and copy the shape of it.”

Next to Tony’s two ‘A’s, Peter slowly, carefully, wrote two ‘A’s of his own, the lines shaky and nowhere near as neat as the Earl’s. Peter made a dismayed noise when he noticed the difference. “Yours look so much nicer.”

“Well, I’ve had more practice. One day yours will look even better than mine.”

They moved on to ‘E’, ‘I’, ‘O’, and ‘U’. “This group of letters are called ‘vowels.’” Tony explained.

“Group of letters?” Peter questioned, “How many are there?”

“Twenty-Six.”

“Oh, good lord. How will I ever learn anything.”

Tony laughed. “You’ll get the hang of it, I promise. The vowels are the tricky ones. They each make two sounds depending on which word they’re used in. The first sound they make is exactly like their name.”

The look Peter gave him was so lost and confused, Tony didn’t know if he should laugh at or comfort the boy. He did neither, and went about sounding each one out, and having Peter repeat it to him. Once Tony felt he had gotten the hang of it, he pointed to each letter, and had Peter pronounce it on his own.

“You’re doing very well, Peter.” Tony assured him.

“This is all terribly confusing,” Peter confessed.

“That’s alright,” Tony said, “We can take as much time as you need. Do you need a break?”

Peter shook his head.

Tony picked up the paper they had written the vowels on, but before going over them again with Peter, he paused. “Just for further reference, is there any set time when you’ll be able to see me?”

The young boy bit his lip, looking like there was some inner conflict going on inside his head. “I normally have leisure time between half-past two and half-past three.”

“So does this mean you will continue to see me?”

Peter paused, then nodded.

Tony smiled, before looking back at the paper. “Now, once again.”


	6. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is meant to serve as an interlude, so there is not a lot of developments plot-wise, and it's a lot shorter than other chapeters.
> 
> Unfortunately this is the last update I will be posting for the next two weeks, because I'm going on a camping trip, and I want to spend as much time with my family as possible. I'll still be working on future chapters as well as outlining, but since I won't have my computer, I will not be updating.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_My dearest Anthony,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, I know it’s only been a few days since we last spoke, but I find that much of my time is spent wishing I was at Raychester with you, instead of being here at Laventhrope. Do not misunderstand, Mama and Papa make excellent company, but I do find myself counting down the days until the wedding._

_Speaking of which, I hope you sent the invitations for dinner this weekend to Lord Rogers, Lady Carter, and Lord and Lady Odinson like you promised. If you have decided against it, please let me know at your earliest convenience, though I do hope you will not. I find myself nearly bursting at the seams, wanting to talk about the wedding, and having the others over will provide such excellent conversion, and I will enjoy spending the evening sitting by your side._

_At the risk of sounding like a fortune hunter, I await the day when I shall become the Lady of Raychester. I know you get lonely sitting in the big house alone._

_Yours affectionately,_

_Virginia “Pepper”_

###### 

###  **Tuesday, July 28, 1891**

“I thought you said that consonants would be easier,” Peter said. He wasn’t whining, in fact Tony had not heard him whine once during their admittedly short time together, which was impressive enough, since Tony remembered doing his fair share of whining when he was learning his letters. He was fairly sure that the boy was trying to keep himself in check, even though Tony could tell he was frustrated.

“I said that consonants only had one sound.”

“But that isn’t true either, because the letter...” Peter trailed off, and Tony saw his jaw clench before he pointed to one of the letters they had written earlier, the letter ‘C’. “That one. That one makes two sounds, and they're both the same as these two.” He pointed to ‘K’ and ‘S’. “So why do we need it?”

“The English language is extremely difficult. Unlike other languages, different letters can make different sounds, and different words can have the same spelling but different pronunciations and meanings.” Tony explained calmly. “It’s going to take some time to learn and get used to it.”

“But it doesn’t...” Peter took a deep breath, before continuing calmly. “It’s just very confusing.”

“I know, and it will get easier with time, I promise.” Tony handed Peter the pen. “Now, I want you to write all the letters again, and we’ll go through each sound they make as you do so.”

Peter sighed and took the pen, his grip too firm, and pressed it to the paper sitting between them at Tony’s desk. As soon as it hit the page, Peter pressed too hard, and the nib broke, causing ink to spill over the parchment.

Tony had never seen a more horrified expression. The poor boy’s mouth hung open in shock, and his face reddened with shame. When he pressed his lips together, they trembled and he looked as though he were on the brink of tears.

Tony hurried to remedy the situation. He quickly picked of the paper before the ink could spill over the edge and stain the desk, placing the messy page and the broken pen into the waste bed, before pulling Peter’s chair away from the desk so that he could crouch in front of him, taking the boy’s hands into his own.

“Why don’t we stop for now, and we can try again tomorrow.” Tony said. He stood, pulling Peter into a standing position, before gently leaning him away from the desk and toward the sofa.

“I’m so sorry, my lord.” Peter said, his voice thick with tears. “I didn’t mean to break your pen, I’m so sorry -”

“It’s fine, Peter,” Tony assured him, “Really, I have plenty of pens, and even if I didn’t, buying a new one isn’t that big of a problem. You were frustrated, so we’re going to take a break. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Does this mean I have to leave now?” Peter asked softly, sniffling a little.

“No,” Tony assured him, “Absolutely not. Now, we can play a game, or I could read you more of your book. Did you bring it?”

Peter shook his head sadly.

“That’s okay, I’ve got another copy here somewhere. Would you like me to find it?”

A nod.

Tony stood to retrieve the book from his shelf before sitting on the sofa, gently pulling on Peter’s hand in a silent gesture to sit next to him. He opened the book.

“I believe we just finished the first chapter, so I’ll start on Chapter Two.” He turned to the appropriate page before reading. “`Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); `now I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was!’...”

###### 

_My darling Pepper,_

_You’ll be delighted to know I sent out the invites just as soon as you left, and that I too am counting down the days until our wedding. While you have your Mama and Papa, I have no one, and though I do not complain about, my solitude, I am eager to put an end to my loneliness. On top of loving you immensely, I also treasure your company, and can’t wait until you are a permanent resident of my estate._

_Do not worry about my loneliness, however, because I can assure you that I find ways to make myself busy. I have plenty of work to accomplish that I find I avoid quite easily even when I have no company to distract me from it, and while I am an orphan bachelor, do not forget that I am not the only one living in my house. They may not be much company, but from time to time I do try to make conversion with my servants._

_I eagerly await your company this weekend, and while I cannot say that I will enjoy the company as much as you will, I will also thoroughly enjoy having you by my side._

_With loving regards,_

_Anthony_

###### 

###  **Wednesday, July 29, 1891**

When Peter arrived at half past two the next day, he noticed a difference in the room. Along the back wall, in front of the many portraits of Tony’s predecessors, was a large green chalkboard, mounted on a set of wheels.

“I had it brought up from storage,” Tony explained. “After what happened yesterday, I thought it best not to have a repeat. Besides, a chalkboard is so much more practical. When I was younger, my governess used this to teach me my letters, as well as other things of course, like math and history.” Tony handed him a piece of white chalk. “Now, try your best to write out the entire alphabet, in order. If you can’t remember, just skip it and we’ll come back to it. I just want to see how much you remember.”

To Tony’s surprise, Peter actually remembered all the letters in the correct order, and his handwriting had slightly improved.

“I practiced,” Peter explained. “With a stick in the dirt outside.”

“How very clever,” Tony said softly, astonished. “Well, then, I guess we can move on.” He took the chalk from Peter’s hand and wrote the word ‘dog,’ with the letters spaced out. “Alright, Peter, sound this out with me.”

Upon going through the pronunciation of each letter three times, each time getting progressively, Peter exclaimed. “Dog! It says dog! I did it!”

Tony smiled at his enthusiasm, then wrote another simple word below it, sounding it out with the boy, Peter enthusiastically following along. Once they had gotten through several words, Tony decided to stop, before they moved onto the more complicated words, which he feared might ruin Peter’s good mood.

They played a couple rounds of whist, Peter won twice.

“You know, Peter,” Tony said, “You’re one of the few people who have ever beaten me at a game.”

“Really,” Peter grinned mischievously. Tony hadn’t seen such an impish expression on the boy so far, and for reasons Tony did not know, it made him smile.

“We’ll move onto some slightly hard words tomorrow. However, I don’t want you to feel bad if you can’t figure them out on your own. You’re learning quite faster than I anticipated. You are a very clever boy, Peter.”

When the boy returned to work a little while later, Tony sat at his desk, wondering how a young man like Peter, who had hardly any education, manage to learn to read basic words, though with some help, in three days...

He was truly clever. He reminded Tony of when his governess had told him he was a genius. Tony didn’t quite understand the look of pride she wore on her face when she had said it then, but he thought he did now.

###### 

_My dearest Anthony,_

_I know you meant for your last letter to be reassuring, but it only made me worry for you even more! Servants, at least in my experience, do not make very pleasant company, bless them._

_I apologize that this letter is not much longer, but I shall see you this Saturday, so we will speak more then._

_Sending my love,_

_Virginia “Pepper”_

###### 

_My darling Pepper,_

_Perhaps to you your servants may not make very good company. But as of late, I have begun to see that my servants are far more than what meets the eye._

_I shall await your visit._

_My heart is yours,_

_Anthony_


	7. Still as the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I was in a bit of a slump this chapter, but I powered through and hopefully you all think it's pretty good, at least.
> 
> As always, there is probably a bunch of grammar and spelling errors in here, so you've been warned.

###  **Saturday, August 1st, 1891**

“I don’t know why I agreed to do this,” Tony muttered as he led his fiancé into the dining room, his elbow extended.

“Because you knew it would involve my coming to dinner,” Pepper whispered, just loud enough so that only Tony could here, her arm resting on his forearm. “Besides, it’s a good idea to have them over, you hardly see anyone anymore. And we need to start thinking about the wedding anyway, we have just over a month to plan it.”

Tony’s other guests walked arm in arm behind them, Steve Rogers and his new fiancé just behind them, and Thomas and his wife taking up the rear of their small parade. As host, he led his guests into the room, and silently indicated which seats they were meant to take, Tony himself sitting at the head of the table. Pepper was sitting to his right, next to Jane and Thomas Odinson, and to Tony’s left sat Steve and Margaret.

The ladies were all dressed in the latest fashions, with wide, mutton-leg sleeves and narrow skirts that had extra padding below the waist, which was cinched by corsets to fit the fashionable small frame. Pepper herself was dressed in stunning blues, the fabric soft and flowy, her hair tied up into curly ringlets framing her face, with a bun in the back.

“This is and excellent meal you have planned,” Thomas commented, looking over the small paper menu that had been placed on each of the guests plates.

“Thank you,” Tony responded politely, Mr. Hogan came back into the room with a bottle of red wine, and began filling everyone’s glasses.

“Why have you called upon us today?” Steve asked. “Not that I am ungrateful, just curious.”

“Well to be entirely honest, it was my fiancé’s idea,” He explained.

Pepper leaned forward slightly in interest. “I was calling upon Anthony last weekend, just a casual social call with our dear friend Mister Rhodes, and Rhodes told me about your recent engagement Lord Rogers. So I decided that us three couples should get together to discuss weddings and married life.”

“Lady Potts has assured me that most of the conversion could be kept between the ladies when they take leave to the drawing room after dinner,” Tony assured the other men.

“Oh, it’s of no consequence to me,” Thomas said, “I would love to impart some knowledge of married life upon the rest of you.” 

Next, to him, Jane laughed. “My husband is so brash.” She spoke in an American accent, in stark contrast to the rest of the company at the table.

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “I only meant -”

“We know what you mean, Thomas,” Steve assured him. “I too don’t find that much trouble in speaking with the ladies about marriage. With Margaret and I’s engagement so recent, I still find myself in that love-filled haze.”

“It doesn’t go away,” Tony commented.

Margaret took a drink from her wine glass, “I’ve been meaning to ask how you met Jane, Lord Odinson.” She turned to Jane. “You are American, correct?”

“Yes,” Jane answered. “Born and raised. I met Thomas when our fathers arranged for a visit here. I haven't gone back since.”

“You must miss home,” Pepper said.

“Sometimes,” Jane admitted. “But mostly I feel blessed to be able to set up a new home, here.”

“Our fathers had arranged for us to meet, for the very purpose of marriage,” Thomas explained. “Their reasons were purely financial. Her father, who is a rich industrialist in America, wanted position in the british aristocracy, and my father was in need of money, since he was buried in debt. He was a bit of a gambler.” He paused, and Tony could tell that underneath the table Jane had kicked his leg. He tried his best not to laugh, Thomas had always been a bit of an oversharer. 

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t dearly love Jane, though.” Thomas insisted.

“He did make quite the first impression,” Jane said.

Behind Tony, the doors opened and Mr. Hogan and the two foot man entered the room. The first footman was a dark skinned boy, and the second footman was only a couple shades lighter. They were both very handsome, as was a part of the job description, however Tony had never taken it upon himself to learn their names. The first footman began labeling cream of asparagus soup, while the second footman went around with lettuce salad and cheese fingers.

“What about you?” Pepper asked Margaret, “How did you and Lord Rogers meet.”

“A social call upon my father,” Margaret explained. “We were courting for about a year before the engagement, but we met when Steve came to visit us in our home, about two summers ago.”

“That's a long time to begin courting,” Tony commented.

“Well, she didn’t make it easy,” Steve said.

“That, and I believed your were courting another woman for a long time.”

“Do you live alone, Lord Rogers?” Jane inquired.

“No,” Steve answered, “After my father died, a close childhood friend of mine began living with me, Mister James Barnes.”

“What about you, Lord Stark?” said Margaret, eating her soup. “Do you live alone?”

“Yes,” Tony responded, “After my parents died, I lived for a short time with my uncle, before my engagement to Lady Potts. After that he returned to his duties as a baron, and ever since I have lived alone.”

“How do you bear it?” Thomas remarked. “Being so lonely?”

“I often worry about that myself,” Pepper admitted.

Tony was quiet for a while, thinking about Peter, a boy who was just a lowly servant, in fact he was the very lowest in social status. And yet Tony had grown rather fond of him. They had met every day that week, between half-past two and half-past three, practicing the alphabet and reading small sentences. This boy was a genius, Tony was sure of it. He hadn’t taught many young people how to read, but he was certain that in that week Peter had made unprecedented amounts of progress, learning quickly, just as Tony himself had when he was a young boy.

Mentioning Peter would be a mistake, however. He was so lowly, even speaking to him would be enough for some very stiff members of the aristocracy to shun him. Tony was never even meant to come into contact with him. If anyone knew about their meeting, it would be detrimental to Tony’s social standing, as well as Peter’s, who would be viewed as a gold digger, pandering for money, although Tony himself knew much better.

Instead of mentioning Peter, the boy who had very quickly become a friend to Tony, he simply responded with three words.

“I get by.”

###### 

While Tony dined with his friends upstairs, Peter was laying the table for the servants diner. His stomach growled, and Peter knew that he would have to eat quickly between courses if he wanted to go to sleep with a full belly, since he served the food for the other servants and cleared the dishes away as soon as Mr. Hogan set down his silverware. Serving the others didn’t allow for a lot of time to eat, and though Mr. Hogan was typically very kind in taking his time while eating so the rest of the staff could get enough food, Peter had still learned to eat quickly.

As he set the table, he caught glimpses of Abe Brown and his friend Ned, running down to the Kitchen between the Masters courses, carrying large silver platters of food up the marrow staircases. He would help Michelle polish them after dinner.

It was hard, recently, to differentiate the Lord Anthony Stark, Master of Raychester, and Peter’s boss, from the kind man who insisted on Peter calling him Tony, though Peter never gave in. However, Peter had to, because on slip would cause the rest of the staff to ridicule him, if he didn’t lose his job.

They were almost two completely different entities, Tony and the Master. Though Peter didn’t see him at any other time of the day, the way the other staff members talked about him was differed very greatly from the way Peter thought about him. The rest of the staff described him as cold and solitary, with a stony appearance and attitude. However, what Peter saw was very different. 

His lordship was a very kind man, if only a little lonely, and in need of companionship. Selfishly, Peter hoped that he was good enough of a companion for him, though he knew he wasn’t, and would never be.

He had just finished setting the table when Ned came down the stairs once again, this time with a load of dishes which Peter watched him carefully set down to be washed later by both Peter and Michelle. Ned looked up at him with a broad smile.

“The Master has guests over, did you know?” Ned asked.

“Yes, Ned,” Peter chuckled, “Mr. Hogan told us all at breakfast, we’re required to know.” He didn’t mention that Tony had told him during one of their lessons as well, several days ago.

“Right,” said Ned, “But did you know why they’re here? They’re discussing weddings and marriage and the like.”

Peter’s stomach twisted. Right. Tony was engaged, his lonely days would be over in a couple of months, and his need for Peter’s company would be gone. 

“Why are you so interested in this?” Peter teased, trying to cover his own anxiety.

“No reason, really. It’s just exciting isn’t it? I wonder if they’ll have the wedding here...”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Snapped a harsh voice, as Eugene walked into the room. “His lordship will be married at the church, as any gentleman would. Now what are you doing conversing, Edward? There are more dishes to be brought down.”

Ned sighed and left the room. Eugene stood near the doorway and stared at Peter, who stood at the end of the dining table at the other side of the room.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Peter,” He started conversationally, “Where have you been disappearing to lately?”

Peter gulped, his hands fidgeting behind his back. “Nowhere.”

“Liar,” Eugene sneered. “Everyday between half past two and half past three I used to find you at the top of the stairs at the servants entrance and now you’re gone.”

“I didn’t realise you missed me so much.”

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

Peter held his gaze with a newfound confidence. He didn’t quite know where it came from. “You always told me not to meddle around at the servants entrance, I simply found a new place to be.”

“And where is that exactly?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Need I remind you,” Eugene growled, “That one word to the Master and you would be looking for a new job, maybe in some factory where a machine could tear your useless limbs off.”

Peter’s mouth shut. He knew Eugene didn’t actually hold that power. He couldn’t get Peter fired, but one poor word about him to the Master could mean that Peter would never be allowed to see him again.

Before Peter or Eugene could say anything else, Mr. Hogan walked into the room. “Peter, wash your face and hands before the rest of the staff comes down to eat.”

Peter gave a silent nod and left the room quietly.

As he washed his face and hands his thoughts went back to contemplating his odd relationship with the Master of the House. He didn’t know why after only a week of even seeing him during his leisure time he felt so drawn to the man. He reasoned that is was perhaps because he had so few people in his life that he was actually comfortable being around. 

When he was with Tony he felt like they were equals. Like Tony wasn’t so high, and Peter wasn’t so low. His time spent with him almost reminded him of when he was a young boy, and his uncle would tell him about his work, or take him out for walks in the large green pastures that Peter used to live near. Being with him reminded Peter of his old life, one that was more comfortable, and more loving.

He shook himself from those thoughts. He would soon lose his unstable place in Tony’s life. A wife was undoubtedly much better company than a lowly servant boy anyway. Peter would always cherish their time together, even though he knew it would never last.

When Peter returned to the dining room, he noticed that his place settings had been altered. No longer were they lined up nicely, to Mr. Hogan’s standard, but sloppily arranged and everything was in the wrong place. He looked up to see Eugene smiling smugly in the doorway before he left again.

Quickly, Peter went around and straightened out the silverware and napkins, making sure everything was once again in its proper place.

He didn’t notice when Mr. Hogan stopped by the door, looking in on Peter making sure his place settings were just right. He didn’t notice the look on Mr. Hogan’s face, which was contemplative as he observed Peter behaving and performing his job, just as a good footman should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm... I wonder what Mr. Hogan is thinking about...


	8. Angels Meet Me at the Cross Roads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update! I wrote this one pretty quickly, but I really like how it turned out.

###  **Monday, August 3rd, 1891**

It was just after breakfast, when Tony and Mr. Hogan met to discuss the running of the house in Tony’s study when Mr. Hogan told him of his first footman’s resignation.

“Abraham Brown has turned in his notice, my lord.” The Butler said, “He has found a job at a shop. He also tells me he has a young lady he is intent on marrying.”

“And he can’t marry her if he stays here?” Tony asked.

“No my lord,” said Mr. Hogan, “It would interfere with his work too much. Besides, he can’t tend to a new wife if he spends all his time here.”

“I see,” Tony said slowly.

“The question is whether you would rather promote some of the staff to fill in the positions and hire a lower paid position, or would you rather we just found a new footman.”

“Well, we should promote the second footman, surely,” Tony decided, “What was his name again? Theodore?”

“Edward Leeds, my lord.”

“Yes, he’s been on our staff as second footman for a couple of years now, he deserves the chance to move upward in the ranks.”

“And the second footman position?”

Tony leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. “Do you have anyone who you think would be suitable for the job?”

“Actually, yes,” Mr. Hogan said slowly, “The Hall Boy has shown that he possesses the skills to be a good footman, though he could use some more training.”

“The Hall Boy?” Tony questioned, “You mean Peter?”

“Yes, my lord. Mr. Parker has been very diligent with his duties as of late, especially after his bout of illness, and hiring a new hall boy would be much easier than finding a new footman. However I think it would be wise to hold off on announcing that Mr. Brown is resigning, and any promotions that would follow for a little while. Just so that I can be sure.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed perhaps too enthusiastically, “That’s a wonderful idea.”

Mr. Hogan gave him a look that Tony couldn’t quite decipher. “My lord, I must remind you-”

“Remind me of what, Mr. Hogan?” Tony interrupted, “That I shouldn’t coddle him? Because I assure you I am not coddling him, or toying with him, or playing with his emotions.”

“I just hope you know what kind of power you hold over him. Even before you knew him you were, and still are, his employer,” Mr. Hogan said, “And now you are showing him special attention, and I can tell you have taken a liking to him, but how long will it last.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are to be married in two months time, sir. What will happen to Peter once you’ve a wife to keep you company and to spend your time with.”

“Nothing,” Tony insisted. “Peter and I will still spend some time together -”

“But can you promise him that? That it will always be like this? It’s only been a week, my lord, and I can already see changes in Peter’s behavior and attitude. He’s more confident, I see him smile more often. He’s even become more social with the staff.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not if it isn’t going to last,” Mr. Hogan sighed, “If something were to change, after all the attention you’ve given him, I fear that Peter would not be able to recover from it.”

Tony felt his heart sink. “Nothing will change.”

“You can’t promise that, especially if your... relationship with the boy is meant to be kept secret.” Mr. Hogan said, “If the wrong person found out, it could have repercussions for both of you, and I think you know that.”

Tony sighed. He did know that. If someone were to find out that Tony had formed a loose friendship with a servant boy both he and Peter’s reputation would be ruined. “Then what would you suggest. Stop seeing him altogether, before it gets too far?”

“I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do either, my lord. Peter isn’t the only one who’s become... attached” Mr. Hogan explained.

He was right. Tony couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Peter again, even though he couldn’t quite explain why. “Then what is the right thing to do?”

“I don’t think I can make that decision for you. You could tell those close to you about him, and hope they are understanding, or you could be completely open about it. Maybe if you were the one to come forward and say it the repercussions would be less damaging than if someone were to try and tarnish your name. Or you could continue to keep it secret, and hope that no one will ever find out about it.”

“None of those are good options,” Tony said soberly.

“I know my lord, but I would suggest doing something, and soon, before the whole situation takes a turn for the worse.”

They two of them were quiet for a long time, before Mr. Hogan spoke once more. “I’ll continue to observe Peter, to make sure that he is in good enough of a position to take on a new role.”

“Thank you,” Tony said softly. 

Mr. Hogan turned to leave the room, when Tony stopped him. “Hogan.”

The Butler turned to face him once more, “Yes, my lord?”

“Do you... consider me a friend? Or am I purely your employer?”

Mr. Hogan gave him a soft smile. “I’ll just say this. I would not speak to you the way I just did, if you were purely my employer.”

Tony smiled, “Tell Peter he may meet with me again today.”

“I’m sure he knows, my lord.”

###### 

###  **Wednesday, August 5th, 1891**

Peter was polishing shoes outside the servants entrance just as he did every morning. He spared a glace down the stairs, where a clock rested against the wall, it was almost half-past six. Just as he looked at the clock, he saw Eugene come through the door and begin climbing the stairs, dressed in his uniform, but missing his boots - his feet only covered by socks. Peter tried lot to let out a noise of disdain, and returned to his work.

“I need my boots,” Eugene said, without greeting. “They had better be finished.”

“They’re resting against the wall,” Peter told him, “They should be dry.”

Eugene turned to find his shoes exactly where Peter said they would be. They were the most identifiable out of all the staff’s boots, since they had gold fastenings, instead of the black leather fastenings everyone else had.

“I thought you had two pairs,” Peter questioned, “Why do you need these boots.”

Eugene made a growling noise in the back of his throat, a clear sign he was irritated. “If you hadn’t been so careless you would have noticed that I set both pairs out last night to be polished. From now on I expect both pairs to be done every morning.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Okay?”

“I’ll also be waking up at 6:00 every morning, and I expect both pairs to be done by then.”

“Why do you need to wake up so early?” Peter asked, “Your duties don’t start until eight o’ clock.”

Eugene rolled his eyes, aggressively picking up his boots and heading down the stairs again. “It is none of your business other than the fact that I want them back in my room by six o’ clock every morning.”

And then Eugene was gone, leaving Peter with his work, and feeling as though this strange morning was the beginning of a very different life for him.

###### 

“What about this one?” Tony prompted, pointing to a word he had written on the chalkboard.

“Huh-eye-duh-ee” Peter said slowly, sounding out each letter.

“Close,” Tony said “only in this word the ‘e’ is silent.”

“There can be silent letters?” Peter said, amazed and confused at the same time.

“Yes, we’ll start with words that have silent ‘e’s’ and then we’ll move on to other words with silent letters.”

“I don’t think I can manage that today, sir.”

Tony smiled at the younger boy. “Well, at least you know your limits. Why don’t you try sounding it out again, and then we’ll be done with the lesson.”

Peter took a deep breath. “Huh-eye-duh. Hide.”

“Good,” Tony erased the chalkboard and led Peter to the couch.

“Do you have any more chocolates?” Peter asked shyly, his cheeks turning slightly pink. Tony had offered Peter chocolates last week, and the boy had never tasted anything so sweet and delicious. He couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

“I do,” Tony said, going toward his desk to fetch the sweets. “But you’re only allowed to have one today. I fear this many chocolates isn’t good for you.”

Peter laughed softly, and accepted the chocolate truffle that Tony held out to him.

“Now, would you like to read or play a game?” Tony asked

“Can I ask you a question?” Peter’s tone was serious.

“You just did,” Tony teased, but when he saw the look on Peter’s face, he gave him a reassuring smile. “You may ask anything you want, Peter.”

“Why me?”

Tony smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Peter said slowly, treading lightly. “Why, out of all of the servants here, or even people in the world, do you want to spend your time with me?”

“You mean, why do I like you?” Tony clarified.

“I guess.”

“Well, Peter, why do you like chocolates so much?”

“Because they’re sweet,” Peter told him.

“And?” The Earl prompted

Peter looked stuck. “Um, I... I don’t know how to explain it. I just do.”

“Well, there you go then,” Tony said. “I like you, because you’re sweet, but besides that, I don’t really know why. It’s hard to explain. I just do.”

Peter smiled and changed the subject. “My birthday is coming up.”

Tony sat back in his seat. “When is it?”

“August 10th.”

“Really?” Tony smiled. “I’ll have to get you a present then.”

“You really don’t need to, sir, you’ve already done so much for me.”

“No, I don’t need to,” Tony agreed, “but I want to.”


	9. Wait Till the Clouds Roll By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is very short for my standards, and it was difficult to write since it's a filler chapter. My hope is that the next chapter is when we begin to spring into the real action.
> 
> Also, sorry for the long delay in posting, I went of two back to back vacations and haven't had much time to write at all.

###  **Friday, August 7th, 1891**

Eugene Thompson woke up at six o’ clock every morning. It was out of habit, a small remainder of his life before working at Raychester. His mother had made him wake up every morning at six to begin work around the house, and ever since moving out of his home, Eugene woke up every morning at six o’ clock.

Normally, he would lay in bed until seven o’ clock rolled around, resting or reading. However earlier this week, Eugene had spoken with the Groom, Jacob Ionello, and discovered that his mother was very ill, and that he would be leaving for an indeterminate amount of time to care for her. It had been discussed between Jacob, Eugene, and Mr. Hogan, that since the Master rarely ever had a great need for a Groom outside of shopping or fetching packages from town, that Eugene would take on the additional duty until Jacob’s return, or should Jacob not be able to return until after the Master’s wedding, until a new Groom was hired.

So now, every morning at six o’ clock, Eugene would leave to head into town to pick up anything the Master needed or wanted, which is why Eugene wanted both of his boots to be clean, so that one pair could be worn into town in the morning, and the other would be clean enough for walking around the castle during the day. It really wasn’t a way to make Peter Parker’s life more difficult.

However, it was a rather enjoyable bonus.

Peter Parker grated Eugene’s nerves raw. He wasn’t very fond of most the staff as it was, the only exceptions being Liz Allen and Jason Ionello, but Peter Parker earned a whole new level of Eugene’s hatred.

Eugene had joined the staff when he was Peter’s age, but he had joined as a footman. He was _better_ than Peter. Eugene had spent eight years working at the Castle, and in that time he had climbed the ranks until he had gone as high as he could go, and once Mr. Hogan decided to retire, Eugene would be next in line to be the Butler of the Castle, and his authority would never be questioned.

 

The only problem was that Peter seemed to be Hogan’s favorite. No matter what their argument was or their predicament, Hogan always sided with Peter. If Hogan decided to retire after Peter was old enough to take the position, Eugene’s ambition would all be for nothing. That’s why Eugene was determined to either get Peter fired, or keep him in his position as Hall Boy for as long as possible.

However, Eugene didn’t want to waste anymore time thinking about Peter, he had a job to complete. He looked at the list The Master had given him, before heading into town.

###### 

###  **Saturday,** **August 9, 1891**

Mr. Hogan was becoming more and more sure that it was the right choice to promote Peter to Second Footman. 

With the boy’s experience setting the table and serving meals for the rest of the staff, he already knew how to perform a footman’s most basic duty. Peter was also a handsome young man, and one of the most important traits to look for in a footman was pleasant features, as it showed off the wealth and good standing of their masters. Peter was also incredibly well mannered, especially for a boy of his upbringing. 

Indeed, Peter would need a few weeks of training, his skills weren’t quite where Mr. Hogan would have wanted them, and Peter would need some time to prepare himself mentally for the transition, so the Butler resolved to announce everything that night at dinner, to give everyone the time they needed to make the changes in the running of the house.

Though the Butler knew that promoting Peter was the right choice for the house, he questioned how it would affect the boys relationship with the Master. 

Contrary to what his lordship may think, Mr. Hogan actually was quite fond of Peter, and enjoyed watching him grow and develop into a fine gentleman. If not for rank, Mr. Hogan would have no doubt that Peter would have done well in high society. The boys relationship with the Master was doing wonders for his confidence, and the Butler could see how much happier Peter was as well, which did not come as a surprise given that the boy had no parents of his own and still longed for some parental guidance in his life. The Master was benefiting from their short time together as well. He was less lonely, and as a result was actually more productive, as he wanted to finish his work before the boy came to spend time with him.

It wasn’t that Mr. Hogan was against the relationship at all, but he knew that very few others would approve of it. They lived in Victorian England, which held the values of separation. Separation from male and female, separation from children and adults, and most importantly, separation by class.

Peter truly was very low in status. All of the other servants outranked him, making him the lowest of an already very low class. Though his promotion to footman would gain him some rank, he would likely never climb so high as to be equal with the Master, let alone at such a young age. Society would view them both very poorly for becoming as close as they were, which, granted, wasn’t that close at all, at least not yet.

It would be worse for Peter, than for the Master, however. Lord Anthony had a good sum of money and a high rank to protect him. He would suffer some repercussions, but would ultimately end up just fine. Peter however, would be viewed as a gold digger, a dirty little boy who stepped out of line in order to gain wealth and status. In reality, Peter was just a little boy who sought any form of affection.

Mr. Hogan hoped that Lord Anthony would tread lightly with how to deal with their relationship. There was so much at stake.

###### 

“I have an announcement to make,” Mr. Hogan said, just as Peter was finally able to take his seat at the table for dinner. The rest of the servants put down their forks and sat at attention, facing the Butler who sat at the head of the table.

“Mr. Brown informed me, a few days ago, that he will be stepping down from his position as footman,” He turned to the first footman, “Is this still correct?”

The footman nodded silently, before the Butler continued. “I have spoken to the master on the matter of filling his position, and we have decided on promoting Mr. Leeds to the position of first footman, and Mr. Parker to the position of second.”

Peter caught the pitched expression of disgust on Eugene’s face, and tried not to smile. Then, the Butler’s words truly sunk in and Peter felt his heart in his throat, could here each thump as blood rushed in his ears.

_He was being promoted._

“Mr. Leeds and Mr. Parker,” Mr. Hogan continued, “You will begin training to take these positions tomorrow, and you will begin officially working on the 17th. I have already begun looking for candidates for the position of hall boy.”

“Why not just look for someone to take the position of second?” Eugene asked.

“Why are you asking?” Mr. Hogan countered.

“While I agree that Mr. Leeds has what it takes to fill the position of first footman, I do not think that Mr. Parker has what it takes to become second.” Eugene explained.

“I think I will be the judge of that,” Mr. Hogan said sternly, “I have already come to the conclusion that Mr. Parker has the skills and assets necessary to fill the position, and besides it’s much easier to fill the position of hall boy than to fill the position of a footman, first or second. Especially nowadays. Now you had better watch your tongue, Mr. Thompson. It is my job to conduct the running of this house, and not yours.”

Eugene shut his mouth, and he and the other servants turned back to their plates and resumed eating their meal.

Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling and looking too excited in front of all the other staff. He stole a glance across the table to his friend Ned, and the look that the shared must have said enough about their mutual excitement.

After they finished their meal, Peter cleared the table and helped Michelle wash the dishes, before stealing away with Ned to stand outside the servants entrance before it was time for bed.

“I can’t believe it,” Ned exclaimed, taking a bite of an apple which he held in his hand. “We’re being promoted! We’re going to be working together!”

“I can’t believe it either,” said Peter, his voice soft. “A second footman...”

“You’ll finally outrank someone!” Ned remarked. 

“Well, that doesn’t matter so much to me.”

“That’s good,” a voice called from the bottom of the steps. Both Peter and Ned looked down to see Michelle coming up the stairs. “Because you’ll be able to outrank me, and don’t expect me to take too kindly to any orders coming from you.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Peter insisted. 

“You’d better not. Anyways, congratulations you two.”

“Thank you, Michelle.” said Ned. “Good lord, Peter. You’ll be able to see the upstairs!”

Peter’s stomach twisted. With all the visits he had been having with the Master, Peter had actually seen quite a bit of the upstairs already. However, Peter had not yet told Ned about his trips upstairs. It was still a heavily guarded secret between him and the Master, the only other person who knew about it was Mr. Hogan.

“He’s already seen the upstairs,” Michelle remarked, causing Peter’s stomach to drop momentarily before she continued. “He got to stay in one of the guest rooms while he was sick.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Ned, cocking his head thoughtfully. “But he hasn’t seen the dining room yet.”

That was true, Peter hadn’t seen the dining room yet. “I haven’t seen much of the house at all,” Peter lied.

He let Ned gone on and on about how beautiful the dining room was, but he wasn’t fully listening anymore. He hated that he was lying to his friend, but he didn’t have a choice. If word got out that he had been meeting with Tony, he would be in a world of trouble.


	10. The Son of God Goes Forth to War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live!
> 
> Trust me, I did not plan on leaving for so long, but ;life got the better of me and going to college is no small feat. Alas, I am now pretty well settled into my new schedule and new surroundings and have once again found the inspiration to continue this.

###  **Monday, August 10th, 1891**

It was half past two o’ clock when Peter knocked on the door to Tony’s office, just as he had every weekday for the past two weeks. 

Tony smiled to himself. He was becoming very used to their new routine, and looked forward to Peter’s visit every morning when he woke up. The Master of Raychester had even become more productive as a result of their relationship, Tony had discovered. He worked hard to make sure that all his work was finished, so that his mind wasn’t preoccupied with his work while Peter was visiting. He felt better too, less lonely. He had something to do everyday now. He wasn’t sitting around restlessly, craving for something to aliavate his boredom. Tony had someone to spend his time with.

Only two weeks. Two weeks and Tony had already grown so...fond of Peter. It was like he had told him a couple of days ago. Tony couldn’t quite describe his feelings toward Peter. He just knew that when they were together, things felt...right. As though there were finally something in Tony’s life that he had done right.

Peter opened the door slowly, just enough to poke his head through to look in cautiously.

“Come in, Peter,” Tony said smiling. 

Peter came into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Happy Birthday,” Tony told him, watching the boy’s face light up with a smile. He reached over his desk to grab a parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a blue ribbon.

Peter had sat himself down on the emerald green sofa, and Tony walked over to sit down beside him before handing him the parcel.

“You didn’t have to,” Peter protested.

“I know,” Tony said, “But I told you, I wanted to.”

Peter smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” Tony insisted, “Go on, open it up.”

Peter took his time, careful untying the ribbon and unfolding the paper so as not to rip it, until the parcel was unwrapped, and sitting in the center of the crisp brown paper was a leather bound notebook, held closed with a leather strap with a buckle holding it together, next to it was a graphite pencil, and a beautiful smooth black fountain pen.

Peter looked up at the Earl with an awed expression that made Tony smile even more. “Mister Stark -” He clamped a hand over his mouth, a tear rolled out of the corner of his left eye.

Tony’s smile fell and he reached over to put a hand on the boy’s leg. “It’s okay, Peter. You can call me whatever you wish, it does not matter to me.”

“But -” Peter swallowed, “But it isn’t proper.”

“Do you think I care about whether or not it is proper?” Tony questioned, “Besides, Mister Stark is a far cry from being rude or disrespectful. I told you when we met two weeks ago for you to call me ‘Tony’ and you refused, and look how far we’ve come since then.”

Tony pulled the boy’s hand away from his mouth and held it in his own, leaning downward to look into his eyes and gave him a reassuring smile.

“I cannot call you anything other than ‘Master’ or ‘your lordship’ outside of this room,” Peter insisted.

“And it is a pity that it can only be in this room,” Tony agreed, his heart actually sitting heavy in his chest. “But in this room, you may call me whatever you please.”

“Okay,” Peter said, with a watery smile, “Anyway, thank you Mister Stark, it’s beautiful.”

Tony looked back down at the present which sat in Peter’s lap. “I figured it would do you some good. You can practice your letters, and when you get better at it you can keep it as a journal.”

Peter sniffed, wiping his remaining tears with the back of his hand. He opened the book, thumbing through the crisp parchment pages. “I’m sorry I’m crying,” The boy said softly. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten a gift from anyone.”

Tony frowned. “Why is that?”

Once the words passed through his lips, Tony instantly felt terrible. Obviously, as he was a child in work, his family would not have come from a good situation, if he still had a family at all, and any friends Peter would have ever had would not have had the funds to purchase him as a gift. Tony, having come from an entirely different background, would never have given it a second thought.

Peter hesitated, thumbing through the pages of the journal absentmindedly. “My parents...” He started.

“Peter,” Tony interrupted, “You don’t need to tell me. That was an incredibly idiotic of me to ask, and I apologize.”

“No,” Peter said softly. “I want to tell you. You deserve to know.”

Tony frowned. “Why do I deserve to know?”

“Because you’ve done so much for me, and I’ve come to see you as a sort of...” The boy trailed off.

Tony waited for a moment before trying to prompt him. “As what?”

“I don’t know the word,” Peter said. “A sort of, adult person, who I really look up to, and who has great influence over me.”

“Like...” Tony thought for a moment. “Like a mentor of sorts.”

“Yes,” Peter decided, “Like a mentor.”

“Then that would make you my apprentice.”

Peter smiled at him, “I’d like that very much. Anyway, I wanted to tell you about my parents. Well, really, I wanted to tell you about how I came to work here.”

Tony nodded, giving him silent consent to carry on with his story.

“My parents raised me in the slums of London,” Peter explained. “It was very crowded, most nights we didn’t have a roof over our heads. I had one outfit, and it was constantly soaked to the bone and covered with soot. It was a very dangerous place to live in. There were always drunks loitering about, choosing fights, and with the constant cold and filth and close quarters, people were constantly falling ill. 

“That’s what happened to my mother when I was very young. She fell ill, and she knew that we wouldn’t be able to afford a doctor. She didn’t want to get me or my father sick, so she left, and I never saw her again. Later word came around that she had been found dead in a gutter on the side of the road. 

“After my mother left, my father made a point of looking for someone who would take care of me while he was at work, or if anything should happen to him, so he tracked down his brother, my Uncle Benjamin, and his young wife, May. My father worked in a factory, and he was killed in an accident involving the machinery that he worked with not long after my mother died. I was about four or five at the time. 

“My Uncle took care of me for a while after that, until I was about seven years old. One of the drunks in the slums decided to pick a fight with him. My Uncle was trying to protect me, but things got too rough, and he ended up dying.

“Which left me and my Aunt alone. We made it a couple of months on our own, even though neither of us worked, before our landlord began evicting people, and we were sent out on the streets. From there we were taken to a workhouse. That’s where we were separated. They took May to train for domestic service, and they took me away to a cottage house, to be trained, either for factory work or for service.

“I didn't want to go into factory work, it was dangerous. Especially after what had happened to my father. I quickly realized that those who were being chosen for service had a different way of holding themselves, and a different way of speaking. It was softer, less harsh and more sophisticated. I picked up on things that they were doing, and tried to copy them, until it just became they way I spoke and carried myself. So they chose to train me for service, and two years later, in 1889, I was hired by Mr. Hogan, and began working here.”

Peter finished his story, taking a deep breath. Tony hadn’t known him for long, but he had picked up on the fact that when given the chance the boy could talk for ages. However, this was by far the most words he had ever heard the boy speak in one sitting.

Tony was silent for a long while, taking in Peter’s tale. It was as though with each word, his face grew older as Tony watched the boy speak. Tony could tell he held so much wisdom for such a young age, even if that wisdom wasn't technically book smarts.

Not knowing what to say Tony simply leaned over and placed his hand on top of Peters, hoping his presence was comforting, and they sat in silence for a long time.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” Peter said softly after a while. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

“You are never under any obligation to tell me anything, Peter,” Tony said softly, reaching up to hold Peter's chin gently in his hand, tilting his head upwards to look Tony in the eyes. “I never want you to feel as though you need to tell me anything. That being said, I’m glad you told me. Now I know just how strong you truly are.”

“I’m not strong,” Peter insisted, “There are so many people who have gone through the same thing.”

“And that doesn’t mean that either you or them have any less strength.” Tony insisted, then he looked back at the clock. “You should be going now. As much as I would like to celebrate with you all day, you and I both have work to do, and Mr. Hogan would have my hide if I kept you any longer.”

Peter nodded, and gathered his new things, holding them close to his chest, smiling at Tony one last time before leaving the study.

###### 

It was much later that night when Mr. Hogan approached Tony in his study, finishing up a book before he decided to turn in for the night.

“My lord, one of the servants spotted a carriage approaching the estate.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “A carriage you say, not an intruder then?”

“No, definitely not. By the looks of it I would say it was just an average visitor, although who I have no idea.”

Tony set down the book and stood up, straightening his coat. “Let’s get the house in order, then. Prepare for guests. Whoever it is may feel the need to spend the night, though I do not know if I’ll allow it, we must prepare for it just in case.”

Mr. Hogan left to carry out his orders, while Tony made his way to the foyer. He was there before Mr. Leeds arrived, still doing his duties as second footman, ready to answer the door. Tony gave him a small smile, but said nothing, keeping his composure.

It wasn’t long before other servants arrived in the hall, ready to take the guests coat and hat, and ready to help Tony entertain the unexpected guest, should the need arrive. Tony noticed with no small amount of dismay that Peter was absent, likely still hard at work downstairs.

Then, there was a loud knock at the door. Nothing obnoxious and wild, if fact for such a loud knock it still held the composure of a gentleman, as much as a knock could. Mr. Leeds opened the door, and bowed his head toward the guest. A gentleman indeed then, if Mr. Leeds reaction said anything.

“Good evening, sir.” Mr. Leeds said politely.

“Good evening,” replied a familiar voice, deep and graveling. Tony would have been able to identify it anywhere.

“Obadiah Stane,” The man announced himself. “I’m here to see my nephew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitch.
> 
> Bet you didn't think you'd be seeing him any time soon.


	11. Silver Threads Amoung the Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did not plan on posting again so soon, but when inspiration hits you it hits you hard and you find yourself writing an extra-long chapter in the span of 24 hours.
> 
> So enjoy!

###  **Monday, August 10, 1891**

“Obadiah,” Tony asked in a repressed state of shock, trying desperately to keep his composure. “Whatever are you doing here, I thought you would be on your way to Austria by now.”

“I was still too ill by the time my ship set sail,” Baron Stane informed the Earl, taking off his coat and hat and holding them out expectantly, waiting for the servants to take them and put them away. “I missed my ship, but I saw it as a blessing in disguise. As soon as I was well enough I loaded a carriage and came here. I figured it best to keep you company in your last month of bachelorhood.”

“Really, Uncle, you didn’t have to,” Tony insisted. “I get by well enough on my own. I have no great need for company.”

“Oh, bah,” Obadiah spat, giving Tony a teasing smile. “I know you say that, but you never mean it. No sensible man ever could. I have all my things here, and I am prepared to stay as long as I must.”

Tony gestured to some of the servants to go and retrieve his uncles things, and he led Obadiah away from the foyer and into the study.

“When is the wedding?” He asked insistently. “Have you made any plans?”

“September 26th,” Tony said, “Lady Virginia and her mother are doing most of the planning. In fact she just wrote me last night to say that she and Mister Rhodes planned on visiting soon to finalize all the plans so that we can send out the invitations soon.”

“The 26th?” The older man’s face pinched in confusion and mild disgust. “That’s far too long, almost two whole months from now.”

“I’m sure my fiancé appreciates the extra time to get everything in order.”

“Humph,” Obadiah grunted, “Perhaps. I still think it’s much too long of a time. It’ll practically be winter by the time the date rolls around. I shall talk to the lady about it when she comes.”

A sour feeling twisted in Tony’s stomach, but he elected to ignore it. “It’s very late, uncle. I’ll have the servants bring your things to my second guest room.”

“Second guestroom, why not the first?”

“Because,” Tony said shortly. _Because that’s the room that Peter stayed in._ “I recently played host for a guest who became very sick with the Russian Flu, and I want to be sure that nothing still lingers in there before I allow any other guests to stay there.”

Tony didn’t want to admit even to himself that he didn’t like the thought of anyone other than Peter staying in that room, even if the boy had only stayed there for a couple of nights, it still help a sort of sentimental value to him. Besides, the estate had four guest rooms total. He could afford to not let anyone stay in Peters for at least some time.

After Obadiah had been whisked away to his room, Tony found himself slumped in an armchair beside his own bed, waiting for Thompson to finish attending to his unexpected guest and help him get ready to go to sleep.

It was so exhausting for Tony to be around other people, he found. It wasn’t as though he had a problem talking to people, in fact he was quite charismatic. But after a long day of dealing with people, Tony had little trouble falling asleep, and found that he so longed for some time to himself in his study, or even with just the few people he held most dear, such as Pepper, and Rhodey, and now, Peter. They weren’t as hard to be around as everyone else was.

However, Tony found that Obadiah, was the most exhausting to be around out of everyone he had ever entertained.

###### 

Peter was in the kitchen with Michelle finishing washing up the last of the dinner dishes when the commotion in the downstairs began ramping up until the the sounds were bouncing off the walls reaching a volume which made the young Hall Boy want to reach up and cover his ears.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Betty commanded from where she sat at the kitchen counter polishing silverware.

It was Eugene who managed to respond over the hustle and bustle of servants moving about frantically. “There’s a guest. I just spotted their carriage coming down the road.” And with that he took off, making himself presentable enough to be part of the staff who went upstairs to great the mysterious visitor.

Moments later, Mr. Hogan entered the kitchen.

“Should I go upstairs?” Peter asked. It was a fair question considering he was training to be a second footman, whose primary duties included answering the door.

“No, you stay downstairs, Peter.” Mr. Hogan told him, his voice composed in sharp contrast to the rest of the staff’s nervous energy. “If I knew who the guest was I would have you up their, but as I do not know who it will be, we must put our best foot forward.”

Peter nodded. He understood, he had only just begun to learn his new position, and in the rare event that the guest was someone important, such as a marquis or a courtesan, the staff would be expected to operate like a well oiled machine, and Peter was not quite up to par. At least, not yet.

It wasn’t for another couple of hours when he finally learned who the guest was.

“It was Baron Stane,” Ned exclaimed, his voice breathy with excitement.

“What’s so special about him?” Michelle asked. She was leaning against the fence, eating an apple - once again the trio found themselves loitering outside the gate to the servants entrance.

“He’s a Baron!”

“We serve an Earl,” she pointed out. “Lord Anthony far outranks him. Clearly his status isn’t what has you so excited.”

“I just really love my job,” said Ned with a smile gracing his face. “You get to meet so many interesting people from so many ranks.”

“He’s the Master’s uncle, isn’t he?” Peter asked, choosing his words carefully. He remembered Mister Stark mentioning an uncle who was a baron, and he could have sworn it was a man named Stane. Obadiah Stane, if memory serves.

“Yes,” Ned replied, frowning slightly. “How did you know? I only realized when I answered the door and he asked to see his nephew.”

Peter’s heart leaped in fear, but he tried to regain his composure. He shrugged and looked out at the dark horizon, the treeline silhouette by moonlight and sparkling stars. “I don’t know,” He said nonchalantly. “I must have heard it somewhere. The name sounded familiar.”

“Well, I don’t know where you’re hearing things,” Ned laughed, “I’ve worked upstairs for years now, and I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone mention it.”

“Well, you’re also not a very good listener,” Michelle teased, taking a bite of her apple. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been mentioned several times.”

“What, and Peter _is_ a good listener,” Ned scoffed playfully. “No, he is just as bad as I am.”

“Well clearly he’s good enough to know this bit of information before you did.”

Peter let them continue bantering, wondering to himself how much longer he could keep such a big secret from his friends.

###### 

###  **Tuesday, August 11, 1891**

Tony had just barely been able to convince Obadiah that his study was off limits to all of his guests, as he needed it to remain quiet and organized for when he worked. It had taken some persuasion, but in the end Tony felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders knowing that he could still meet with Peter that day.

“We can convene in the smoking room when I am not working,” Tony had offered.

The Baron had frowned. “I didn’t know you smoked, Anthony.”

“I don’t,” Tony admitted, “But nonetheless that is the name of the room in which the men gather to talk, regardless of one’s preference to smoke.”

Now for all Tony knew the Baron was sitting comfortably in the second guest room, reading the paper, as he did not finish it that morning at breakfast, and Tony waited impatiently for his young apprentice to come and seek him out in the study.

At almost exactly half past two he heard the soft click of the study door opening. Peter was moving with such slow, carefully quiet movements, Tony had to smile. He was such a clever boy, already knowing the importance of remaining quiet now that there was a guest in the house. His pride only dampened by the pang of sadness he felt as he realized he had to keep this boy a secret, less for Tony’s sake than for Peter’s.

The boy turned to face him, staying near the door as though to make a hasty escape should the need arise. He looked to Tony with somewhat fearful and cautious eyes, before glancing around the room.

“He’s not here, Peter.” Tony promised. “I’ve warned him against entering the study. It’s still my house.”

“No one ever said that it wasn’t your house,” Peter replied, his voice softer than usual, still cautious even after Tony informed him that he was safe.

Tony smiled at the boy and got up from his seat behind the desk and moved over to the sofa they usually sat on. He noticed that Peter had his new notebook and pen clutched tightly in his hands. 

Peter moved across the room to sit next to the older man on the sofa, his movements slowly becoming less cautious as the tension in his shoulders began to ease up. “I didn’t know if you still wanted to meet today, because of your guest,” Peter admitted.

Tony sighed, and moved so that he was turned towards the boy, his knees pressed against Peter’s.

“Listen,” Tony said softly, “If I thought it wouldn’t be safe for you to see me, I would have called for Mr. Hogan and told him to let you know that it wasn’t safe. I would never put you in the position where you may be caught.”

Peter nodded, looking down at the book in his lap, his knuckles white with how firmly he was holding it.

“Have you written anything in it yet?” Tony asked, trying to change the subject. He didn’t like how anxious the young boy looked, it was starting to make him feel anxious.

“Just a little,” The boy mumbled, handing the book to Tony. The older man opened up the journal to reveal small, somewhat messy letters, though still much more practiced than the messy handwriting Peter had started with.

Within the cover of the book, Peter had written: _property of peter b. parker._

The spelling was perfect, and though Tony couldn’t quite differentiate between uppercase and lowercase letters, he felt his heart swell with pride once again.

“Outstanding,” Tony said under his breath his smile stretching wide across his face. “Really, Peter, you are such a clever young man.”

Peter blushed. “My handwriting is still a bit messy...”

“But you spelled every word just right.”

“Most of it is just my name...”

“And learning how to write your name is a very important part of learning how to write.” Tony closed the journal and handed it back to Peter. “And what about reading? Do you still have the book I gave you?”

Peter nodded. “I’ve been reading out of it every night, as much as I can. I haven’t gotten very far.”

“Well, let’s test it,” Tony said, making his way over to the bookshelf. He ran his fingers gently across the spine of each book on his shelf before he settled on one that he thought might be easy enough for Peter to read, but still more challenging than what Tony could offer by thinking of something off the top of his head. He sat back down next to Peter, holding the volume between them and thumbing through the pages looking for a nice, short paragraph for Peter to read aloud.

“‘But you have off-ten said to me, papa,’ said he,” Peter read, his words slow and deliberate, “‘do unto others as you would they should do unto you; and what a huh-happiness it would have been to us, when our v-vessel was wuh-recked, if we had seen a canoe!’”

Tony smiled, “Very well done.”

Peter looked up at him with an eyebrow raised quizzically. “I cannot have gotten all the words right.”

The man chuckled “No, but you only got one word wrong.” he pointed at a word in the paragraph. “The word here is ‘wrecked’. There were a couple other words you stuttered on, but besides that you did very well.”

Peter smiled, and Tony took the book back. “How about I start reading this book aloud, and you can read along in your head, then you’ll leave me when were done for the day.”

The pair carried on that way until Peter’s hour was almost up. As Tony read aloud to his young protégé, he felt the younger boys head slowly press into his shoulder as he read along, and Tony couldn’t help but notice that they were both more relaxed.

Until they were rudely interrupted by the sound of steps out in the hallway coming towards the door of the study. Tony felt Peter grow tense against him as they both sat in apprehension, waiting to see whether the footsteps would continue on their way down the hall, or stop at the doorway.

To their dismay, just as the sound of footsteps reached a crescendo, they stopped, and were punctuated by a loud gentlemanly knock at the door.

“Kneel down by the fireplace,” Tony instructed quickly under his breath, and Peter was quick to obey, just as Tony made large strides toward the bookshelf to quickly slide the volume back into its place. “start a fire, make yourself look busy.”

There was another loud knock, before Tony composed himself, and answered the door.

It swung open to reveal the face of one Obadiah Stane. Tony felt a twist in his gut, who else would it have been? He had been hoping beyond hope that it was Mr. Hogan, but Tony knew luck wouldn’t be on his side in this case.

“Uncle,” Tony greeted, a hint of annoyance sneaking into his voice. “I thought I told you not to disturb while I’m in my study.”

“Forgive me,” Obadiah said, not sounding apologetic at all, “I thought you might be done by now, and that we could take a walk through the gardens. The grounds truly have changed so much since I have last been here.”

Tony sighed, “I’m nearly finished. If you’ll allow me another half hour or so, I should be able to finish my work and join you.”

Without warning, Obadiah stepped through the door frame, forcing his way past Tony and into the study. “My, things sure have changed here too. Your father would have never had his study arranged in such a way.”

Tony grit his teeth and plastered a tight-lipped smile onto his face. “I am not my father, now if you’ll excuse me -”

Then, Obadiah spotted Peter and his expression hardened. “Why do you have a servant boy here?”

Tony moved quickly to place himself between his uncle and the small boy hunched over the fireplace. “I called -”

“Why do you have a servant boy here when you won’t even allow me to be here?”

“Uncle, please,” Tony lifted his had in a placating gesture. “I called for him to start a fire for me, he only arrived just before you did.”

“Why do you need a fire on a hot day like this?”

“It helps me to focus.”

“Were you not focused on your work for the past hour?”

“To be frank, no, I wasn’t,” Tony lied smoothly, “It’s true that I can typically focus on my work if my study is quiet. However your surprise visit has me quite distracted, so I called my Hall Boy to light a fire in the study, because the sound further helps me to focus. Anyway, There is hardly any point now that you’re here.” He turned to Peter. “Move along boy, you’re no longer needed.”

Tony made a great effort to try not to grimace at his own words. He saw Peter’s eyes graze over his journal and pen, which sat closed on the tea table, before giving him a curt nod and leaving the room.

The Earl turned back to face his uncle, his expression giving away nothing. “Just give me a moment, uncle, and I’ll join you in the garden’s straightaway.”

###### 

Later that night, Tony gave the journal and the pen to Mr. Hogan to return to Peter, with a note inside that read the following:

_Dear Peter,_

_I’m sorry I had to speak so harshly to you today. Please understand that I only did it to protect you._

_You left this in my study, and I didn’t want you to have to wait until tomorrow to have it back._

_I’ll see you again tomorrow,_

_-T_

Unfortunately, Peter was asleep by the time Mr. Hogan got around to delivering it to him, so he slid it halfway under the doorway to the boy’s room, so that he would have it in the morning.

However, Peter was not awake early enough to find it before Eugene Thompson had woken up and found a very familiar journal and pen underneath Peter’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh tea is about to be spilled y'all. Buckle up, because things are about to get messy real quick.


	12. Come, Ye Faithful, Raise the Strain

###  **Wednesday, August 12, 1891**

Peter had hoped he had finally gotten ahead of Eugene’s new schedule. He was waking up at half past 5 o’ clock, half an hour earlier than usual, and always worked on Eugene's boots (both pairs) first and foremost so that they would always be ready whenever Eugene needed them, for whatever he needed to do.

When Peter woke up that morning, he gathered his supplies and made sure he had everyone’s boots before making his way to outside to work.

He hadn’t expected Eugene to be standing in the middle of the hallway in his socks, holding Peter’s journal in his hands.

“Good morning, Mr. Parker,” Eugene greeted cooly, turning the journal over in his hands.

“Good morning, Eugene,” Peter replied timidly.

Eugene held up the leather bound book. “I found this underneath your door this morning. I just wondered where it came from.”

“It’s mine,” Peter said, his hands itching to set down everything in his arms and snatch it back.

Eugene cast him a smile, but not a friendly one. It was a smile that reminded Peter of a cat after it had cornered his prey. “You see, Peter, I just can’t believe that. Have you wondered why I wake up so early every morning?”

“Of course I have, and when I asked you always told me it was none of my business.”

The Valet sneered. “And it wasn’t, but now I am choosing to tell you. Jacob’s mother is sick, and I’m picking up some of his duties as groom to head into town every morning and do the shopping for the master, until Jacob returns.” He held up the book again. “Last friday, I went into town and bought this exact book for the Master. It cost six shillings, that’s more than your monthly wages. You couldn’t have bought this.”

“You know what I think?” Eugene continued. “I think you stole it, right out of the Master’s study.”

Peter felt his stomach drop. “How could I have stolen it? I don’t even get to go upstairs.”

“Oh, really?” Eugene said with faked innocence. “What is it that you do everyday during your free time then? I recall just over two weeks ago that you went upstairs, right in front of Mr. Hogan even. Tell me, Peter, how much of the Masters things have you nicked and hidden in your room? One word to Mr. Hogan and I can have your room searched. I wonder what they’ll find.”

“Open the book, Eugene.” Peter’s words came out a little harsher than he had intended, but he wanted to put Eugene’s empty threats to rest. “You’ll find that written in the front cover is my name, and not the Master’s.

Eugene glared at him, but did as he was told, opening the book to the front cover, revealing that indeed, it was Peter’s name written inside it’s cover. However, it also had the unintended effect of reveal the note that the Master had left for Peter, which the boy had not known about.

As soon as the volume was opened, the note fluttered to the floor, and before Peter could set down his things to grab it, Eugene picked it up and read it’s contents aloud, quietly, almost to himself. 

“Dear Peter, I’m sorry I had to speak so harshly to you today. Please understand that I only did it to protect you. You left this in my study, and I didn’t want you to have to wait until tomorrow to have it back. I’ll see you again tomorrow…” he looked up at Peter, whose stomach was twisting nervously and who was now finding it hard to breathe.

“Did the Master write this?” Eugene asked him. “Is that what you’ve been doing all this time, sneaking away to see the Master?”

“Eugene,” Peter pleaded. “Please, don’t tell anyone -”

“Oh like Hell I won’t tell anyone,” Eugene said loudly, laughing to himself, grinning widely, “Oh, this is just too much. Tell me, Peter, What is it that you and the Master have been doing? I hope it’s nothing too racy. Is that you’ve been promoted? You found a way to get into the Master’s good graces and you’re using it to your advantage.”

“No, Eugene, it’s nothing like that -”

“Good God, this could cost you your job!” Eugene nearly shouted with joy, “you could be shunned from society for this, your reputation would be ruined!”

“What’s going on out here?” a voice called from down the hallway, behind Peter. Peter turned to see Mr. Hogan standing a few feet away. Behind him stood Ned and Michelle, still in their night clothes, looking as though they had been woken up by all the noise.

“Mr. Hogan!” Eugene exclaimed, thrusting the journal and the note towards the Butler, “Are you aware that peter has been sneaking away during his free time to see the Master? God knows what they’re doing, but -”

“I’m aware, Eugene,” Mr. Hogan cut him off, taking to book and the note and handing it to Peter. “And it’s nothing like whatever you may be thinking. The Master has offered to give Mr. Parker lessons on reading and writing. The journal was a gift to help Mr. Parker practice, and yesterday he left it in the Master’s study on accident when he left, so his lordship asked me to deliver it back to him.” Mr. Hogan turned to Peter, “I’m sorry, I should have just held onto it and given it to you this morning.”

Eugene’s jaw dropped, “Mr. Hogan you can’t seriously be allowing this. This is scandal! He should be fired for this at the very least.”

Mr. Hogan turned back to the older boy. “You will tell no one about this. Yes, this is a scandal, but not just on Peter’s part. Should the word get out, the Master would also be shunned from society, and it is your job as a member of this staff to remain loyal to your Master. If you were to tell anyone, I would have no choice but to fire you.”

Eugene glared, his face turning red with anger. “You cannot seriously let this - this hedge-prowler just get away with this. It’s not appropriate, and it’s not right.

“I can and will, Mr. Thompson, and if you know what’s good for you, you will turn the other cheek, and never say a word of this to anyone, do you understand me?”

The Valet was fuming with anger, but he grunted and gave an affirmative nod, shoving past Peter as he continued down the corridor.

Mr. Hogan turned to address Ned and Michelle, “The same goes stop you, too. If I hear a word of this spoken to anyone you will be on grounds to lose your jobs, am I being clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ned, while Michelle nodded silently beside him.

Finally the Butler turned back to Peter. “Peter, again, I am sorry for the way things happened. That was careless of me to leave the journal under your door.”

“It’s alright, sir,” Peter said softly, clutching the book to his chest, “Thank you for telling him off like that.”

“You must tread lightly now,” Mr. Hogan warned, “Both you and the Master, especially now that his Uncle is here until the Wedding. Now, get back to work, last time the staff didn’t have their shoes in the morning we were set behind schedule, and I won’t have that happening whilst we have a guest in the house. Mr. Leeds, you had better get ready too, you will be assisting Mr. Brown with getting Baron Stane ready so that you may take over when Mr. brown leaves.”

And with that, Peter ducked his head, gathered his supplies, and made his way outside, trying to ignore the tears which had slipped from his eyes and down his cheeks.

###### 

Peter didn’t go to see Tony between half past two and half past three. Instead, he spent the time in his room, looking over the note Tony had left him and trying not to cry over it, eventually he resolved to putting to note back inside the book and hiding the journal under his pillow with his copy of “The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland,” and laid down trying to sleep for a couple of moments before he had to return to work.

His attempts at sleeping failed, so he got up and wandered aimlessly downstairs. How did he ever spend his free time before he spent it with Mister Stark?

Eventually he ran into Ned, who had just been able to escape his duties helping Abe Brown with his duties as first footman, as part of his preparation for being promoted. Peter had been doing a lot of training with Mr. Hogan, although after Baron Stane arrived much of the work was practiced downstairs. He had however been fit with a new uniform recently, Peter had been surprised at how he had looked in it, all cleaned up, with his hair neatly combed. Perhaps it was just shocking for Peter to see himself without the layer of dirt that always seemed to cling to his skin.

“Peter,” Ned called out as Peter tried to walk past him unnoticed. Peter then turned to face his friend, his gaze cast to the ground with shame. Ned looked over his shoulder, “Can we talk, someplace private?”

Peter hesitated, before nodding and letting Ned lead the way, remaining silent. His friend led him outside, to the servants entrance where they usually hung out, however once they reached their usual spot, Ned led him even further away from Raychester Castle until the were walking side by side down the road. They were met by Michelle, who had clearly been waiting for them, and they continued walking as a group.

“Why didn’t you want to tell us,” Ned said, breaking the silence.

“Don’t ask that,” Michelle told him, shaking her head, “You know full well why he didn’t tell us, it would have been too dangerous.”

“But it wouldn’t have,” Ned insisted. “It wouldn’t have changed anything, we wouldn’t have told anyone. Don’t you know you can trust us, Peter?”

“I do trust you,” Peter insisted, “I just couldn’t trust myself.”

“What is that supposed to mean,” Michelle asked, her tone non-invasive, though the statement didn’t seem to match the intent.

Peter sighed. “It was hard enough as it was, not ever talking about meeting with… the Master. Because if I talked about meeting with him, and the wrong person heard, I would get myself in trouble. Also, I don’t usually call him ‘the Master’ anymore. At least not in my head. Things between him and I aren’t as formal anymore.”

“What do you call him then?” Ned asked.

“Well, usually not anything,” Peter admitted, “most of the time the conversation doesn’t call for it, but when it does, I call him ‘Mister Stark’.”

Michelle cast him a look, “That’s so informal.”

“I know,” Peter said, a fond smile appearing on his face. “But he insisted that I don’t call him ‘Your lordship’ or ‘Master’, and I couldn’t very well call him ‘Tony’ like he wanted me to.”

“Why not?”

“Well I just told you, I didn’t trust myself not to say his name instead of his title when I was talking with someone,” He explained.

“What’s it like?” Ned asked. “Talking to him. You’ve gotten to know him probably better than any of the staff, except for maybe Mr. Hogan.”

Peter thought for a moment. “He’s gentle. It’s so odd to hear people talk about him being so cold and firm. He’s not like that at all, at least not around me. When I was sick, he was so kind. He read to me while I was feverish and delirious, and he read to me some more after my fever had broken. When I told him I didn’t know how to read, he offered to teach me, but part of me thinks that maybe it was less because he wanted to teach me, and more because he wanted to see me again,” Peter blushed. “I sound so self centered, what I mean to say is that he’s lonely. I can see it in almost everything he does. He looks so excited when I come to see him, excited to be able to talk to someone and just be himself. I can tell he hates having to live such a structured life, that he would much rather be able to do what he pleases when he pleases. But at the same time he has too much time that’s just put towards working at his desk. And he hates it, I can tell.

“But he’s so kind to me, and so patient. When I don’t get things right, or I spell or pronounce something wrong, he corrects me but it isn’t harsh. And if I’m not quite getting something, he tries it so many different ways until I get it right. He’s such a good teacher, at least for me.

“And perhaps a selfish part of me likes to spend time with him because I’m lonely too. Don’t get me wrong, I love to spend time with you two as well, but a lot of the time you’re too busy with other things. Most of my chores I do alone, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. Sometimes I don’t talk at all. But when I’m with him we talk for the entire hour. Sometimes we don’t even work on reading or writing, and we just talk. I don’t know, sometimes it’s nice just to talk to an adult, or to even have an adult in my life again. To have someone who… cares for you unconditionally…”

He sighed and shook his head, “Anyway, it’s not as though I’ll ever see him again.”

Ned frowned. “Why not?”

“You heard what Mr. Hogan said to Eugene this morning. If anyone found out Mister Stark and I would both be ruined,” Peter explained, “We’ve already come far too close to being exposed, I can’t risk hurting him.”

“But by not seeing him anymore, you are hurting him,” Michelle argued. “And not just him, but also yourself.”

“I understand,” Peter said softly, “But he’ll get over me. We’ve only known each other for barely two weeks. And he’s getting married soon, he’ll be so distracted he’ll forget about me.”

Michelle and Ned exchanged a look.

“If you say so, Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want to know how much the journal cost in today's money, I had to do an insane amount of math while writing this so here is the fruits of my labor.
> 
> The journal, as found in a shopping catalog (which admittedly was from Ohio, since it was the best I could find) a large, leather bound journal with a metal clasp cost $1.63.
> 
> Not bad right? Wrong.
> 
> In the US, today, that would cost $45.95. Translate that over to Britain, today, that's £36.74.
> 
> Sending the price back through time was a bit harder - in Britain, 1891, they didn’t use the money they use today. Their money system was broken down into pennies, shillings, and florins. (If I have any readers who think/know that this wasn’t actually the case, please let me know. My research was very confusing, and I got a lot of mixed results.)
> 
> 24 pennies = 2 shillings = 1/20 (or .05) of a modern pound.
> 
> £36.74 today = £0.29 in 1891, so that would have meant it cost 5.8 shillings, but I rounded up so it became 6 shillings.
> 
> Peter gets paid £3, or 60 shillings a year, which means about five shillings each month. So indeed, this journal would have cost him a tenth of his income, and a shilling more than what he earned each month.


	13. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this was written really fast, but it's a super short chapter, so I guess that's how it goes.

_Mister Stark,_

_Ned helped me writ this letter, so i hope most of the spelling is okay. I just wanted to say that im sorry i havent come to see you. After everything that has happened in the past week, i think it would be best if you and i were to stay apart for awhile. I think it would be safer, and youre getting married soon anyway, so you wont be as lonely._

_Im really sorry that i put you in danger, and i hope you know that the past two weeks were some of the best weeks in my life. I loved being able to get to know you and having you as a ~~fath~~ friend._

_I wish you all the best,_

_Peter_

###### 

###  **Saturday, August 15, 1891**

Tony read over the note that Mr. Hogan had handed him when they met that morning, in the privacy of the study.

“Why would he write this?” Tony asked. “What happened? Why can’t he see me anymore?”

“One of the servants found the journal in his room,” Mr. Hogan told him, “It was my fault really, I just slid it under the door that night since he was already in bed, I didn’t want to wake him. I should have just waited until morning.”

“So one of the servants found out?” Tony looked back up to the Butler, a trace of fear in his voice. 

“Just one, and I took care of it,” Mr. Hogan said. “He hasn’t said anything to anyone, and he won’t if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Who?” the Earl demanded, “Who found out?”

The other man hesitated. “Eugene Thompson, my lord.”

“My Valet?”

“The very same.”

Tony was fuming. He was now pacing the length of his study at a fast pace, his feet hitting the floor loudly, occasionally stopping to think before pacing again.

“I should fire him,” Tony declared, “I should fire him for ruining this, the very idea -”

“If you fire him, then nothing stops him from telling everyone,” Mr. Hogan said. “You’re playing a dangerous game, especially now that your uncle is here, and with your wedding so close. Perhaps Peter is correct, that you should stop seeing each other -”

“How dare -” Tony began to shout before lowering his voice. “How dare you tell me what you think is best. I know what is best. I know that having Peter see me here is dangerous for both of us, him most of all, but I have done everything in my power, and will continue to do everything in my power to prevent anything from happening. He is perfectly safe, I’ve made sure of it.”

“Nothing is certain, my lord,” Mr. Hogan said softly, “There is no way either of you could know that nothing bad will happen.”

Tony sighed angrily before sitting down at his desk, placing his head in his hands. “Perhaps I have been too selfish. I admit, the real reason I wanted the boy to visit me in the first place is because I was lonely. You knew that,” Tony picked up Peter’s note carefully, looking over the sloppy letters with a certain fondness. “Even Peter knew it.”

Mr. Hogan was silent for a moment. “I was harsh, at first,” He admitted. “Probably too harsh on you. I had known you were lonely for some time before Peter had fallen ill, and I was too quick to judge when you wanted him to start visiting you.He was lonely too. He had very little friends, and all his adult figures in his life were either dead, or working somewhere far away, who knows where. Peter had been so quiet before, but now it’s like I’ve seen a whole new child. But, my lord, what you have with him is no longer about loneliness. This is about love, and not the love you share with your fiancé. This is something different, and deeper in some ways. I dare say you’ve stopped seeing him as a friend, and more like family.”

Tony said nothing, staring down at the note at his desk.

After several long moments of silence, Tony picked up the note and tucked it into his census book, before closing it and placing it on the book shelf.

“You may go, Mr. Hogan,” He said softly. “I’m sorry I yelled. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

And with that, the Butler left him in the study, alone.

###### 

_My Dearest Pepper,_

_I’ve received your letter about your visit this coming Monday, and I am writing to tell you that I would be delighted to have you and Mister Rhodes stay the week. There is a lot of planning to be done._

_Also, my uncle, Obadiah Stane has paid me a visit and is eager to speak with us both on matters of the wedding. He informed me that he will be staying with me until the 26th of September, to keep me company until the wedding, though he seems to want to discuss changing the date with you._

_(Keep a strong spine, my love, though I know you will. There is no need to change our wedding date simply because my uncle wills it so.)_

_Until then, I will await your arrival._

_Yours truly,_

_Anthony_

###### 

###  **Sunday, August 16, 1891**

It was nearly midnight when the Baron could be found taking careful steps down the hall to his nephew’s study. It was the only room in the house he had not been able to get a good look at, and it was the one room in the house that he desperately needed to see.

When he reached the study, he was relieved to find that it wasn’t locked, that was just the kind of thing his loathsome nephew would do.

Entering the study, Obadiah used to candle he held in his hand to like the candles throughout the room. Once he could see more clearly, he sneered, looking around the room. He had meant what he said the other day when he had been here, Howard would have never arranged his study in such a way. The fact that his nephew had changed it made Obadiah angry. Howard had kept it the exact same way their father had, just as their father had before him.

He made his way to the bookshelf a pulled out the volumes he was looking for, containing all the papers and reports stating how much money the Stark family had to its name. He looked over the census of tenants living on their land, and poured over all the tax statements to calculate how much income the estate received every year.

He smiled to himself after finding the results satisfactory, and went to put the books away before returning to his book, when something caught his eye.

Sticking out between the pages of the census book, was a stray piece of paper. At first, Obadiah thought it might have been a page that had been folded poorly, but when he opened it up to the page, he found that it was actually a note.

After reading it over, he stuck the paper back where he found it, and returned to his room. He now had a new mission. 

Who in God’s name was Peter?


	14. I Love to Tell the Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute but I have had the hardest time trying to figure out what I wanted to do with this chapter, and I am pretty proud of the results, so please enjoy.

###  **Monday, August 17, 1891**

Mister Rhodes and Pepper had arrived Monday evening, much later than Pepper’s letter to Tony had mentioned. Obadiah wasted not one minute lecturing Tony on the importance of punctuality before they arrived, and when it had been explained to them that they were late due to a carriage crash (not on their part - neither Pepper, Mister Rhodes, nor their carriage were harmed, their road was simply blocked by someone else’s unfortunate accident and Mister Rhodes had been so kind to assist with an injury one of the children had acquired,) Obadiah had disregarded it, retiring to bed muttering about how unbecoming it was of them to spend extra time at the crash site.

Tony chose to ignore his uncle as he embraced his fiance, and led them to the drawing room to speak for a moment while Lady Virginia’s servants took his guests belongings to their respective rooms.

“It is ... so nice to see your uncle again, Tony,” Rhodes said carefully.

“I respectfully disagree,” Tony grumbled, presenting a glass of wine to his fiancé. 

“You don’t like having your uncle around?” Pepper teased.

“Truthfully no. As of late his presence has been rather grating on my nerves, especially after...” He trailed off, before sitting down on the soft couch.

“After what?” Rhodes asked, a smile playing on his lips, “What did the old man do this time.”

Tony frowned. In truth he had been referring to the fact that Obadiah’s unexpected visit to Tony’s office during his lesson with Peter very well could have been one of the reasons the boy decided to stop seeing him. Subconsciously, Tony knew this had to do with my he felt so hostile towards his uncle lately, but he couldn’t very well say that to his guests.

“Nothing,” Tony insisted, “But if I were to be perfectly honest, I would say the only reason I seem to tolerate him anymore is because he is the last of my family.”

Pepper hummed knowingly. “I believe everyone has been there, at some point or another. AS they say, blood is thicker than water.”

“That saying is so often misinterpreted,” Rhodey said, taking a drink of his wine. “So many people think it refers to the ties of family being stronger than those outside of it. But in truth, it means the opposite. The blood shed on the theoretical battlefield is thicker than the water of the womb.”

Tony let that sink in for a moment. It was true that his ties to his family were more out of obligation. He never truly formed a bond with anyone in his bloodline. His strongest relationships were between those he was not related to at all. Such as Rhody, Pepper, even his friends within the aristocracy, such as Steve Rogers and Thomas Odinson, and most importantly... Peter.

Tony shook his head. “Perhaps it is more simple when the person in question is your last surviving family member.”

Rhodey shrugged. “I have found that the statement holds true no matter what situation you find yourself in. After all, there is a difference between obligation and familial relationships. I personally do not feel obligated to do anything for my mother, but I do so anyway, because I love her. And I feel the same way about you, Anthony. Even though we don’t share the same blood.”

Tony smiled at him. The words hit him directly to his heart, and while he knew them to be true, he still felt obligation towards his uncle. After all, Obadiah had been with him throughout his childhood, all the way until his parents died, only truly leaving once Tony was running the estate on his own. How could he abandon a member of his own family when they had been by his side for so long. Even if that family member annoyed him to no end, and seemed to be getting more nosy and severe with each passing day.

“Well, as much as I’d like to talk into the late hours of the night, you two have had a long journey, and deserve some rest.” Tony extended his arm to Lady Virginia to help her stand and led her by his arm into the hallway. She turned and placed a kiss on his cheek, before walking away by herself towards her room.

Tony watched as she left, and then was startled by Mister Rhodes placing a hand on his arm. “I’m serious, you know,” Rhodey said. “If Obadiah doesn’t treat you well, you shouldn’t feel obligated to him just because he is your blood.”

“If only it were that simple, Rhodes,” Tony replied, his voice low. “Goodnight, I shall see you again in the morning.”

###  **Tuesday, August 18, 1891**

Dinner, Tony decided, was a maddening affair. One that should be done away with entirely. There really was no need for all the festivity and formality, especially amongst friends. 

He would never tell anyone this though, because it was a vastly unshared opinion, and if he were being entirely honest, it was more to do with the fact that Peter was now serving them more than any real opinions over how dinner should be served. He had no opinion on it before the week started.

Peter had begun working as a footman the Saturday before, and Tony still wasn’t quite adjusted to the way his stomach churned watching the boy serve Obadiah and now his best friend and his fiancé. It didn’t feel right, watching Peter like this. This was outside of the normal time and place where Tony saw him, and he felt somewhat protective of him, as though Tony felt that Peter didn’t belong here, serving upon him and his guests. I didn’t sit well with him.

Now, Tony spent the majority of his dinners attempting not to look at Peter for too long, fearing that someone might suspect something.

Things were so much easier before Peter had decided to come see him. Tony imagined that if the visits hadn’t stopped, Peter would have worked out some sort of clever system of some sort, just for them to be able to communicate while being discreet. The Earl imagined that dinners would have been an entirely different feeling.

But the visits had stopped. And seeing Peter now only cause Tony a great amount of pain in his heart.

He tried to distract himself by listening to Obadiah’s attempt at conversation, which set everyone at the table on edge.

“..all I’m trying to say is that the wedding is just too far off,” His uncle tried to reason to Pepper, who was more occupied with her soup than the conversation at hand. “Don’t you agree that neither you nor Anthony should have to wait that long.”

“The invitations were sent out this evening, Baron Stane,” said Lady Virginia, setting down her soup spoon and folding her hands in her lap. “And even so, the wedding is now just over a month away. There isn’t much longer for Anthony or I to wait. I’m sure we’ll all be fine.”

“You say that now,” Obadiah remarked, straightening his back with an air of arrogance. “But just you wait until the date approaches and -”

“I do hope you are not insinuating that Anthony is a loose gentleman?” Mister Rhodes interrupted.

The Baron shrugged. “All gentleman are.”

It took almost everything Tony had not to roll his eyes in annoyance. “I find that comment outdated, uncle. And also rather offensive.”

That shut Obadiah right up. Tony forced down a smirk, knowing that his uncle was a man of tradition, but that also meant he was old fashioned in his view of how many things, including marital relationships, worked; and the Baron hated to be wrong about anything.

There was a short silence as the main course was served, and Tony swore he and Peter made eye contact for a short moment, and his stomach turned so much, Tony doubted he could finish his meal. But then the moment was gone, and Mister Rhodes had begun a new subject.

“I received a letter the other day, requesting that I become an officer in the Royal Army.”

“Really?” Tony said, picking up his fork and stabbing a piece of roast mutton. “But you’ve no experience in the military.”

“But my father did,” Rhodey countered. “And since he was a high ranking officer, and now our family has a good position and rank, they deemed that I would make a good officer as well. They want me to be a Colonel.”

“But we aren’t at war, are we?” Pepper asked.

“That hardly matters,” Obadiah piped in. “The Royal Army must always be ready to defend their country, and I do believe that Mister Rhodes is the right sort of man to take the helm.”

Rhodey gave the Baron a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Baron Stane.”

“Well I never thought that he wouldn’t be good for the Royal Army,” Pepper remarked, before taking a bite of her food.

“I am very much in agreement,” Tony smiled at his friend. “I’m very happy for your, Colonel Rhodes.”

Rhodey laughed. “Well, nothing is official yet.”

The room quieted as the group began to focus more on the food at the table, and Tony’s mind wandered back to Peter, who now stood at attention at the head of the room, next to the table stocked with silver platters full of the night’s meal. Tony realised that Peter wouldn’t get to eat until well after they were done at the table, while they languished in the drawing room for the remainder of the evening.

He wished that things didn’t have to be this way, where their lives were so separate and their statuses so vastly different that society wouldn’t accept them. Tony wished that he could spend the entire day just being with Peter. He wished he could tell Rhodey and Pepper about the boy, how smart and kind he was. How Peter made Tony’s heart glow with pride.

Tony looked back down at his food, taking another bite and hoping he hadn’t spent too long looking across the room at Peter. 

The feelings he felt for the boy were so foreign and different from any other relationship he had ever had. Tony wished he could say that he saw Peter as a friend - and in a way he most definitely did - but it was more than that. More intense and almost instinctual. He cared very deeply for Peter in an almost intimate way.

In an almost paternal way.

Tony hoped that the shock he felt from his own realization didn’t show on his face. How had he not realized how attached he had gotten? He didn’t just care for Peter, he realized, he loved him. Loved him very dearly, as though he were Tony’s own son. And that was terrifying.

One month. One month Peter and Tony had known each other, and though it usually took Tony months or even years to realise how much he cared for someone like Pepper or Rhodey, Peter had managed to break down Tony’s barriers and find a place in the Earl’s cold heart.

The Earl continued to eat his dinner in silence. Around him, his best friend and his fiancé were striking up more conversation, with his uncle intruding, but Tony couldn’t be bothered. 

###  **Wednesday, August 19, 1891**

Tony was staring out the window of the drawing room. Seeing Peter last night had been emotional. Especially since Tony couldn’t reach out to him or talk to him. 

Every day that passed that Peter did not come for his lessons, the heavier Tony’s heart became. Logically, Tony knew that he wasn’t coming. Not anymore. Not after everything that had happened. He knew why Peter was no too scared to come see him, but at the same time he wished that Peter could be a little braver. That they both could be a little braver. But that wasn’t possible. There was too much at stake, especially for the younger boy, and deep down Tony thought that perhaps it was for the better. But in his heart, he longed for the boy’s presence.

He had realised last night that he loved Peter.

He realized that he saw the boy as his son.

And that made everything so much harder

"Tony," Pepper called from the other side of the room. "Come read to me."

Tony blinked. "Why, dearest?"

"You look as though you need a distraction," she sat down carefully on the sofa, adjusting her skirt as she did so. "And I do love it when you read to me."

It was true, Tony was distracted. It was half past two o'clock; Tony didn't even have to look at the old intricately carved wooden clock sitting on the mantle of the fireplace to know. Even over a week later, and Tony's internal clock still informed him of when their usual meeting time was, causing Tony's heart to ache everyday, without fail, at the loss of his favorite daily activity, and if he was being honest with himself, his favorite person.

"What would you like me to read you, my dear." He asked his fiancé, shaking himself from his thoughts.

"Anything," Pepper said with a nonchalant tilt of her head. "It's never the content that matters when you read to me, it's the way you read it. It sounds so personal, like everything you read has happened to you. It's one of the most intimate things we've done together since we've met."

Tony raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk danced across his lips.

The lady rolled her eyes slightly. "Not like that, you absolute hedge creeper"

Tony's smile softened. "Does the content really not matter than?"

Pepper smiled, somewhat mischievously. “I wouldn’t mind a Jane Austen, or a Charlotte Brontë. Though I doubt you would have that in your library.”

He raised an eyebrow, walking over to a bookshelf and selecting _Jane Eyre._ “As a matter of fact, this is one of my favorites.”

His fiancé laughed as he sat down beside her, opening to the first page. Before Tony could begin to read, however, Pepper asked him a question. 

“Do you have many fiction novels?”

“Indeed I do. Perhaps much more than is recommended for a gentleman.”

“Don’t let them tell you anything,” Pepper said softly taking his hand. “You have never quite fallen into the guidelines for a perfect gentleman, and that’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.”

“I try not to, my darling.” Tony replied, lifting her hand, and placing a kiss upon her knuckles. “Shall I read then?”

She nodded shortly, leaning into his side and he thumbed through the pages, reading in a soft tone. Subconsciously he realised it was the same tone he used when reading to Peter, and he shoved down the emotions that came with that realization, as they caused his heart to throb with pain. Tony had never known one person could make him feel so much love and so much sadness at the same time.

Tony realised his voice had gotten heavy, sadness leaking into his voice, and they were only about halfway through the first chapter when Pepper stopped him again. 

“What’s the matter, my love?” She coaxed, lifting her hand to cover the page. 

“It’s nothing, darling.” Tony swallowed, moving to continue the chapter, but Pepper stopped him once again. 

“You sound heartbroken. Something is wrong, please tell me what it is.”

For a long moment, Tony did not answer, debating what to tell her. The possibility popped into his head that he could tell her the truth. Explain everything about Peter, and maybe finally get it all off his chest. But as good as it might feel to tell someone else about their secret relationship, if there even was one anymore, he also feared what telling his fiancé for Peter’s safety. What if she wasn’t receptive to the idea?

“Is it...?” Pepper trailed off, looking down at her hands resting on the book. “Are you having second thoughts about -”

“No!” Tony rushed to stop her, “No, never. I would never dream of...” Tony sighed. “It isn’t you, dearest.”

“Then who is it.”

Tony looked away, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. “I’m not sure if I should tell you.”

“And why not?”

“It’s... difficult to explain.” Tony sighed, fidgeting with his hands now. “It’s a sensitive topic... possibly even a dangerous one.”

“Dear God, Anthony.” Pepper gasped. “Have you gotten involved with some sort of crime rink?”

“No, nothing like that,” Tony dismissed. He stood up from where he was sitting beside Pepper and started pacing. 

Pepper stayed seated, her eyes followed him as he made his laps around the room. “Why can’t you just tell me, Tony. Is it really so bad that -?”

“It could be,” Tony stopped pacing, rubbing his hand down his face. Then, finally he looked up at her, looking directly into her eyes. “If I told you, would you promise you would never tell a single soul.”

“Tony -”

“ _Please.”_

“I promise,” Pepper said softly. “Now what is it?”

Tony took one last deep breath, before speaking again. “A month ago, one of my servants fell ill. He was so sick, he wasn’t expected to survive the night. And he was young. Very young. I took pity on him and had the other servants bring him upstairs and had him stay in one of my guest rooms.

“As you know, and as I may have never acknowledged before, I was lonely. I visited the boy, and then, I found that I didn’t want to stop visiting him. Once he got better, I offered to teach him how to read and write, and from then on I grew... attached.”

“Attached?” Pepper asked cautiously.

“Oh, nothing as vile as that,” Tony sneered. “But I grew close to him, and I want to believe that he felt close to me as well. We had... some sort of bond

“Last week, another one of the servants found out about it. Unfortunately for the boy, this servant wasn’t a friend of his, and threatened to use the information to get him fired from my staff, and ruin his reputation. And Obadiah... my uncle came too close to finding out the truth during one of our lessons, and the boy was frightened away.”

He became quiet again, staring at the orante carpet before lifting his eyes to meet Pepper’s again, searching for what she might be feeling.

Lady Virginia was an impenetrable wall. It was hard to gage her true emotions on any given day unless she elected to show you. Usually she wasn’t so closed off around Tony, but she was now, and that frightened him to no end.

“What is his name?” She asked.

“Peter.”

She hummed softly, acknowledging what Tony said. He was still standing in the center of the room, staring intently at her, waiting for some kind of response. In that moment, Tony never felt more vulnerable.

At long last, Pepper spoke. “Tony,” she said carefully. “Just how attached to him are you?”

“Just now,” Tony swallowed, “Just last night I realised that I saw him... I see him as my son.”

“Tony,” she whispered, aghast. “You’ve only known him for a month!”

“I know, I know,” Tony rushed forward, sitting on the couch next to her and pulling her hands into his lap. “But somehow in that time he managed to steal my heart.”

“It took you over a year for you to say that you loved me, even after we became engaged,” Pepper protested, though she didn’t attempt to pull her hands away.

“Which really speaks to how much I adore him, he managed to get past all my walls in a matter of days, before he crept into my heart. I don’t know how he did it, but I do know that these feelings are real.”

“How do you know he isn’t using you?” She reasoned. “What if he wants money, or he’s somehow using you to get promoted -?”

“He isn’t,” Tony said with a tone that was final. “He’s just like me, Pepper, I can tell. He’s lonely. He’s at the very bottom of the whole social order, and he has very few people to talk to. We have that in common, him and I, and when we were together it was electric. We understand each other, and being together gives us a moment to just stop with all the drama going on all around us, both upstairs and downstairs, and we just get to be ourselves.”

She paused, studying Tony’s face. “And then he stopped coming to see you.”

“He doesn’t feel safe anymore. And in all honesty I don’t blame him.” He whispered, “But seeing him at dinner, waiting on the table almost every night now that he was promoted to footman - which he earned by the way - it’s just hard for me. To see him, and have him be so close, but just out of reach.”

Then, Pepper softened, her barriers falling once again, and her posture fading. Every muscle in her body seemed to unwind, as she looked into Tony’s eyes. She raised a hand to cup his cheek. “You love him?” She asked, one final time.

“So much it hurts.”

She sighed. “I won’t tell anyone. And I’m happy for you. Happy that you’ve found someone else you can love. And if he’s like a son to you... then once we are married I will accept him as my son too.”

Tony smiled, breathing out a sigh of relief, kissing the inside of the hand that was cupping his cheek, and continuing to pepper kisses down her wrist before kissing her cheek, and finally kissing her firmly on the lips. “I love you,” He breathed.

“I love you too,” She replied, “And I love seeing you so happy.”

“I have never been happier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, If anyone has, like, history questions, questions about the era, how I am interpreting different things from Victorian society to fit my story, things I'm changing, things I'm ignoring, etc, just ask me! I would love to answer either here or on my tumblr!


	15. The Mulligan Guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter than last chapter, but around the same length of usual chapters.
> 
> We are approaching what is in my opinion that most exciting part of the story.

###  **Sunday, August 30, 1891**

Obadiah Stane prided himself in being an intelligent man. He was observant and could pick up on things that weren’t being said. It wasn’t so easy to pull the wool over his eyes.

He knew that his nephew and his friends were growing weary of him, but he wasn’t as concerned with that. All he needed was Anthony’s loyalty, not his love. And the Baron was sure that his nephew was smart enough to know that Obadiah was making the decisions here. Smart decisions that followed tradition. After all, Anthony must know that Obadiah was older and wiser than him, and that he knew what was best.

What Obadiah didn’t need, however, was any distractions to his nephew. Anthony needed to be concerning himself with marrying that Lady Virginia and inheriting her wealth. Obadiah could tell that his mind was clearly not on the matter at hand.

And it didn’t take a genius to notice that the new footman that Anthony could be caught glancing at all too frequently was the same boy the Baron had found in his nephew’s study.

And it was Obadiah’s guess that this boy was the mysterious ‘Peter’ from the letter he had found during his search of the study.

That was why this afternoon, while Anthony was entertaining his guests in the drawing room, the Baron made his way into the downstairs. Under any other circumstances Obadiah would be loathe to do this, but the benefits outweigh the risks. He needed to know that this ‘Peter’ wasn’t a threat, and that if he was, he was out of the way.

When he got downstairs, he found that the staff was mostly gone. The only person to be seen was a lean tan-skinned man with dark hair leaning against the counter of the kitchen eating an apple. When the man saw him he was startled and stood upright.

“Where is the rest of the staff,” Obadiah said without introduction. He didn’t need one.

“Out, sir,” He answered swiftly. “Most are taking their weekly trips into town or are attending church.”

“But not you?” The Baron questioned.

“No sir, not if the Master needs me.”

“Your Master does not seem to be needing you at the moment.”

“No, but I will be ready when he does.”

Obadiah looked the man up and down, observing his stature. He liked him, he could already tell. A good servant, loyal, with good words and held himself well. They could get on quite well. And he certainly wasn’t Peter. 

“What is your name and position?”

“Eugene Thompson, sir.” He replied. “I’m his lordship’s valet.”

“Tell me, Thompson,” Obadiah questioned. “Do you know who Peter is?”

Thompson looked as though he was holding back a grimace. “Yes sir. He is the second footman.”

Obadiah smiled to himself. So he was right. “Is he here?”

“No, sir, he’s in town.”

The Baron hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you know if Peter and his lordship have been... in touch with one another.”

The valet looked as though he was thinking rather hard, as though debating whether or not he should tell the truth, and Obadiah wondered if perhaps he was too loyal to his nephew.

His fears were dismissed however, when the valet spoke again. “Yes, sir. I do happen to know that they have been seeing each other.”

“In what way?”

“From what I gather it was lessons, though I suspect there might be more to it,” Thompson hesitated. “I was told not to tell anyone about this.”

“I can see why, but I’m glad you told me.” Obadiah approached the valet slowly, careful to keep his distance. “Are they still seeing each other?”

“No sir, Peter stopped going to visit after I found out about it.”

So the boy was afraid then. He should be.

“Thompson, may I ask you a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“I need you to inform me whenever anything seems off with Peter.” Obadiah explained. “Specifically, if you seem to think he may be inclined to start seeing Lord Stark again.”

The valet nodded hastily, his lips were stretched thin in a barely hidden smile. That was interesting. The Baron suspected that this Thompson boy wasn’t a fan of Peter’s. Good.

“Yes, sir,” Thompson responded. “I can do that.”

“Good.”

And with that Obadiah made no haste going back upstairs, once again assured that he was the true Master of Raychester.

###### 

“What do you need from town?” Peter asked as he picked up his step to keep up with his surprisingly swift best friend.

“My mother needs me to purchase some household things to send home to her,” Ned replied holding up a list. “And then I have a couple of extra shillings, so I want to buy something nice.”

“Do you think you’ll find anything?” Peter asked.

“Likely not, I always seem to talk myself out of buying things,” Ned shrugged.

“But you have money?” Peter questioned. “Why not spend it?”

“It’s better to save it I suppose.”

“For what?”

Ned paused, pondering the question. “In case maybe one day I’m not in service.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” The were headed farther into town now, and the streets were becoming more crowded, causing Peter to press himself against Ned somewhat fearfully.

“Say I get laid off for some reason,” Ned explained. “Then I would have no food or board, but at least I would have money.”

“I don’t see why they would lay you off,” Peter argued, “You’re a good worker and it’s becoming harder and harder to find servants. I’d reckon that you could stay at Raychester your whole life, never having to worry about food and board.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still better to be safe.” Ned reasoned, “But I do have a good amount of savings and a little extra coin, so I think I might buy something.” They continued father into the market and Peter found himself nearly tripping over both his and Ned’s feet. “Why are you pressed so close. As good of friends we are, Peter, I would appreciate some personal space.”

Peter stepped away from Ned, though he kept a hand on his back so he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. He was about to apologize to him, when he realized Ned was smiling at him, giving Peter a teasing grin.

“It’s just crowded. I don’t want to lose track of you.” Peter explained.

“It’s no more crowded than usual.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know.”

Ned furrowed his brow and looked at his friend. “Have you never been to market?”

“No,” Peter said slowly. “I never had enough money, and I was always too busy. A hall boy’s wages won’t get you much.”

“But your a footman now!”

“I’ve only been second footman for a couple of weeks now,” Peter reminded him. “I haven’t been paid yet.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“I did bring some of my savings though,” Peter admitted. “I wanted to see if there was anything that sparked my interest.”

The market was so crowded Peter had to grab hold of Ned’s shirt, for fear that the sheer mass of people would cause him to get pulled away from him and lost in the crowd.

If Peter were being totally honest, he hated this. He hated how close everyone was, how people brushed up against him as they passed by. And he didn’t blame them for it either, the streets were narrow and one didn’t want to be caught out in the road with all the carriage traffic. Still, Peter felt as though he couldn’t breathe, being packed like sardines with several strangers between the shops and the road. It reminded him too much of... no.

“Do you need anything in this shop?” Peter asked Ned, raising his voice over the noise of the crowd.

“No,” Ned replied. “Everything I need is further inward.”

“Well, maybe we should look in this shop anyway.”

Ned looked in the window, then back at Peter. “This is a bookstore.”

“Yeah,” Peter said helplessly, “it could be interesting.”

“Peter,” Ned sighed, moving onward, and Peter clutched tightly to the back of his shirt. “I don’t need books.”

“But you said you wanted to buy something for yourself.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to buy a book, I don’t have the time for it.”

“You could read before bed,” Peter insisted, “That’s what I do.”

Ned turned to Peter and raised an eyebrow quizzically. “You read?” Peter gave him a pointed look. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Anyway, why do you want to go in this store so bad?”

“I-” Peter started, and he realized that his breaths had picked up and he was almost hyperventilating.

Ned must have noticed too, because he grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him into the book store. Instantly, the noise level dropped. There were less people, and though the space wasn’t much bigger it was less crowded. Peter took a deep breath and let his nerves calm down.

Ned reached out to touch his arm comfortingly, and spoke in a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

Peter breathed in deep once again and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

He shook his head. “Not right now. Later. I... I just need a break for a minute.”

He let Ned lead him down aisles of books, not really focusing on any of them, just focusing on calming his breaths. They walked at a slow pace up and down the isles, and Ned spoke to him softly, about nothing of importance, and Peter focused on his voice, and the smell of dust which hung in the air, and wood floor below his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said finally.

“For what?” Ned asked.

“Causing a scene. Slowing down your trip.”

“It’s fine,” Ned insisted. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Peter sighed. “It just... it just felt like being back in London.”

“In the slums,” his friend realized. “How crowded it was.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, exhaling shakily.

They stayed quiet for a while, before Ned spoke again.“I need to get back to getting the supplies for my mother. Are you up to heading back out?”

Peter shook his head.

“Well, you can either head back to Raychester, or you can stay here until I’m done, then.” Ned reasoned. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’ll stay here,” Peter told him. “I actually do want to look at some of the books.”

“Okay then,” Ned said, making his way to the door of the shop. “I won’t be long.”

Peter nodded to his friend as he left the shop, then turned his attention back to the shelves. One particular book caught his eye. 

He pulled it down from the shelf and started thumbing through the pages. The book was bound in light brown, almost greenish leather, the words on the cover, and the decorations on the spine were indented, and filled with gold leaf. It was beautiful, but Peter could tell it wasn’t new, perhaps an older copy of a book that had been sold to the store owner for resale.

He ran over the letters on the cover with his fingers. _Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens._

Peter slowly walked up to the shopkeepers desk. “Excuse me, sir. Might I ask how much this is?”

He handed the shopkeeper the book, and he looked it over. “This is an older copy, it’ll only cost you a shilling.

Peter smiled. “I’ll take it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I can confirm that there will be a sequel to this story. Planning is in the works for Volume II (which has a name that I will announce when this volume is finished) and planning for Volume I: What Occurred in Raychester Castle, is complete. As you can tell there will be thirty chapters (though that number may very well change based on how I see the pacing going as i continue to write. Very excited about the following this fic has gotten, and how far I've been able to get into writing it!


	16. I Need You Every Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I would post this yesterday, but then my inspiration just vanished. It came back soon enough though.
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying spooky season!

###  **Wednesday, September 2, 1891**

Tony was seated in the drawing room with Pepper and Rhodey after lunch, which had become the norm since their visit had started. They had planned to discuss wedding details, which was the main reason for the visit in the first place. However, Obadiah decided that this matter required his opinion, and was joining them that afternoon, which led to their current, very tense conversation.

“We are not going to change the date of the wedding,” Tony said, this head resting against his hand, as he massaged his temples to ease the headache that was progressively worsening.

“I don’t understand why not,” Obadiah protested.

“The invitations have already been sent out,” Rhodey explained calmly, and Tony admired his ability to keep a cool temperament in a situation that made his skin crawl in annoyance.

“Lady Virginia, surely you have your fears about marrying on a Saturday,” His uncle continued, shifting his attention to Tony’s fiancé. “What is that rhyme that brides are always reciting? ‘Marry on Monday for health, Tuesday for wealth, Wednesday the best day of all, Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses, and Saturday for no luck at all.’”

“I do not subscribe to such superstition, Baron Stane,” Pepper, her hands gripped tight around her fan which sat in her lap.

“Well, it’s bad enough the wedding isn’t in the spring,” Obadiah huffed. “Your marriage will be ruined before it can even begin.”

“I seriously doubt it will be so severe as that,” Tony protested.

Obadiah continued on, ignoring him. “The next thing you know, tradition will be broken entirely. Will Anthony be seeing you before the wedding, Lady Virginia.”

“Baron Stane, that is enough.” Colonel Rhodes interrupted. “The wedding date has been set, there is no changing it. Lady Virginia and her mother have already done the planning, all that’s left to do is the preparations, we have no time to be arguing about changing a fixed date.”

The Baron let out a disgruntled huff, and sank back into his chair, crossing his arms. “What is to be discussed then?”

Pepper’s back straightened. “I received a letter from my mother this past weekend. She’s sending a carriage to have me return home on the 16th, for a dress fitting. I will stay at my family home until the day of the wedding.” She turned to Tony. “the week of the wedding, a group of servants will be sent with the majority of my belongings.”

“Your room here is already set up and ready,” Tony confirmed, “so everything should be ready for after the wedding.”

Obadiah shot him a confused glance, and Tony had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “After the wedding, won’t you both be heading off for your honeymoon?”

“We decided to wait until the spring,” Tony explained tiredly. “That way it will be warmer when we decide to go on holiday. Besides I can’t abandon the house for a whole month when we have to make preparations for winter.”

Surprisingly, Obadiah didn’t fight this topic so. Tony tried to keep his surprise to himself, but he would have thought that a proper honeymoon would have been on Obadiah’s list of things that were too untraditional about Tony and Pepper’s wedding.

Nonetheless, the Baron said nothing further about this subject, and Colonel Rhodes moved onto asking Lady Virginia about the more decorative elements, such as what the bridesmaids would be wearing. Tony paid attention, but found himself distracted by Obadiah’s now passive stance for the rest of the afternoon.

###  **Friday, September 4, 1891**

Peter was frustrated. He had hoped that his lessons with Mister Stark had amounted to _something_ before he had decided to stop seeing him. Clearly the reading skills he had acquired during their lessons were nowhere near close enough for ‘ _Charles Dickens’._ The author’s writing style was extremely wordy, and some of the word’s Peter was sure he had never even _heard_ of before, let alone read.

After about thirty minutes, Peter closed the book with a disgruntled sigh, and picked up the copy of _‘The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland’_ that the Master had given him when they had first met.

It was a shame, really. The few words that Peter did recognize in ‘ _Oliver Twist’_ made him sure that it would be an interesting tale, and one that Peter thought he would really enjoy. It was just too hard for him. He had finished _‘Alice’_ several nights ago, and now he was reading it for the second time, which wasn’t nearly as wondrous as the first.

Peter couldn’t help but think that if he hadn’t cut ties with Mister Stark, then he wouldn’t be sitting in his room between half-past two and half-past three. He would be upstairs in the Earl’s study, learning how to read and write better, and Mister Stark would offer to read the book to him, and it would all make so much more sense.

But even thinking that made Peter feel guilty. Mister Stark had guests now. He would probably much rather spend time with his uncle, his best friend, and his soon-to-be-bride than with a lowly servant boy. Besides, it wasn’t safe for them anymore. He couldn’t risk getting the Earl in trouble when his wedding was so soon. Peter didn’t want to risk getting the Master in trouble at all. It would have to be enough for Peter to only be able to see him while waiting on the table during dinner.

However that was the hard part. It wasn’t enough for Peter to see him only during meal times. In fact Peter might argue that it was too painful for him to see Mister Stark at all. He hated to admit it, even to himself. But in the short time the two had spent together, Peter found that he had grown close to the Earl. Much too close. In some ways, his attachment to Mister Stark had even begun to remind him of his relationship with his uncle, or even his father from Peter’s vaguest memories of him.

It was dangerous to feel that way. Peter only allowed himself to acknowledge it in his mind, and even then only briefly.

When Peter found that he had been reading the same sentence for the last several minutes, and not because it was too hard for him, he decided to give up on reading, and head back to work.

###  **Sunday, September 6, 1891**

“I received a letter from Lord Banner today,” Tony told Pepper as they took a turn around the garden’s, “It was to confirm he was coming to the wedding.”

“Oh, good,” Pepper said, “He was the last to reply wasn’t he?”

“Yes everyone else has already sent in their responses. They’re all coming.”

“Well, I’m glad all of your friends could come, and what luck. No one turned down an invitation.”

“They’re not my friends,” Tony argued, “There are very few people who I regard as a friend in this world, and that includes you, Rhodey, and -” He paused.

Pepper look up at her fiancé, and hummed softly. They continued on their walk in silence for a few moments. 

Tony admired the view surrounding him. The garden’s had always been his favorite as a child, which might have had to do with the amount of love and work his mother had put into it while she was alive. It was one of the few places Tony ever saw his mother truly happy. She would bring him to the garden every so often, and softly lecture him on which flowers were in bloom, and they would bask in the bright array of colors.

Looking over at Pepper, part of him hoped that they would be able to enjoy the gardens together, perhaps even one day with a little one of their own. But he hoped she was never forced to use the garden’s as her only solitude, as Tony’s mother had. Tony never wanted to be the harsh tyrant that his father was, and that his uncle tried so hard to justify. In his heart he knew he was already better than Howard, because he loved his soon-to-be wife so much even before they were married.

“You really do love that boy,” Pepper commented, her voice lowered as to not be so easily overheard.

“Hmm? Oh yes, Peter.” Tony hadn’t forgotten about him, he never could, he had just simply forgotten that Tony had almost mentioned his name earlier.

“You should tell Rhodey about him,” Pepper whispered.

“Darling... I’m not so sure that is the best idea.”

“Well,” Pepper said slowly, “If you intend to... integrate Peter into your life, he will have to know eventually. You can’t keep hiding such a big secret from you best friend.”

Tony sighed. “Part of me wonders if Peter wants to be integrated into my life. I haven’t heard one word from him in almost a month now.”

“He thinks he’s protecting you,” Pepper reasoned. “And in many ways he is. But if he knew there were people by your side, people you were close to who were okay with you two being so close, maybe he would feel safer, and allow himself to see you again.”

“How can I tell him that?”

“I think the first step is telling Rhodey,” Pepper repeated with certainty, “And then, once you have both of us on your side, I can go talk to him and convince that you’re both safe. Besides I’ve been wanting to meet him.”

“And if Rhodey isn’t okay with it?”

“He will be,” She insisted. “He loves you, and he wants you to be happy. And if he doesn’t then... maybe Peter is right.”

“I don’t want him to be right,” Tony whispered, “Not about this.”

“Then prove him wrong,” Pepper pressed.

“Okay,” He said softly.

###  **Tuesday, September 8, 1891**

After Peter’s fiftieth or sixtieth attempt at reading the first page of _‘Oliver Twist’,_ he decided to voice his frustrations to Ned, who in turn had offered to give him lessons based on his knowledge of reading. 

At first, Peter had thought that it was a wonderful idea, and had been excited at the prospect of continuing to learn to read and write. After the first lesson, however, it became clear that Ned was _awful_ at teaching.

Edward Leeds was a very intelligent young man, and was also very clever, and kind, and an amazing friend to Peter, but his ability and patience for teaching, just wasn’t one of his strong suits.

“I don’t understand,” Ned said in exasperation. “This is just so easy for me.”

“It’s easy for you, because you learned it when you were supposed to,” Peter sighed.

“I’m sorry Peter, but it’s just hard to explain it. I don’t even know the exact science of how it works.”

“It’s fine,” Peter closed his leather notebook, having given up on learning anything new that day. “I guess it isn’t important.”

“Well, I think it is,” his friend stood up from the table they were sitting around, getting ready to return to work. “You have to learn to read at some point.”

“Why?” Peter asked. “I haven’t needed to my whole life, so why would I need to now?”

“Because you obviously want to learn,” said Ned. “and it’s obvious that it’s bothering you that you can’t.”

“I can read a little,” Peter protested, “And I can write some. It’ll have to be enough. Perhaps if I keep trying it will come to me. It will just be really slowly.”

Ned sighed. “I really am sorry, Peter.” 

“And I really do understand, Ned. I just wish...” Peter trailed off.

Ned waited for him to finish, and when he didn’t, Peter’s friend seemed to understand anyways. “I know. But you made a decision, and if you plan on sticking to it, this is the way things are going to have to be.” He waited for Peter to speak again, receiving only silence.

“If you ask me,” Ned continued, “You should go back -”

“That’s not an option,” Peter said, cutting him off.

“I think it is.”

“He doesn’t want to see me.”

“I think he does.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because he wanted to see you before, didn’t he?” Ned asked. “You told me that the only reason you went back to see him at all is because he asked Mr. Hogan to send you to his study.”

“Just because he wanted to see me then, doesn’t mean he wants to see me now.” Peter protested.

“When are you going to stop pitying yourself?” Ned’s voice was raised, and Peter quickly motioned for him to keep quiet. Ned ignored him. “No, you didn’t have to stop seeing you could have -”

“Yes, I did, Ned.” Peter cut him off, his tone growing a little harsher than he meant it to. He took a breath to try and calm himself before speaking again. “Look, I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t want to fight about it. But I’m doing this because it isn’t safe for us to keep seeing each other, when people can find out about it. Too many people know already. What would happen if someone else knew, and they weren’t under any obligation not to tell anyone. Tony would be ruined.”

Ned furrowed his eyebrows furrowed. “You called him -”

“Forget I said that,” Peter continued. “The point is that things can’t go back to the way they were. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“What about you Peter?” Ned asked. “You’re the one with more to lose here, and if it weren’t for _him_ being in some sort of danger, you would never have stopped going to see him. Do you know why I think that is?”

Peter didn’t respond, his eyes cast downwards.

“Because you enjoyed spending time with him,” his friend continued. “Not just for the reading lessons either.”

Peter remained silent, even after Ned informed him that he was going back to work. He spent several minutes staring at the opposite wall, letting Ned’s words sink in. Yes, he did like spending time with Tony. And if they had lived in any other world, Peter would have liked to hope that they could have seen each other and been friends without any worries about what the repercussions of their actions may be. 

But the reality of it was that Tony was in danger of having his reputation ruined if Peter decided to go back to seeing him. Peter himself was in danger too, even more so than Tony was. Until that changed, Peter wouldn’t risk it. The two of them would just have to learn to live apart.

###  **Thursday, September 10, 1891**

When they told Rhodey about Peter, he took it much better than Tony expected.

“What’s his name?” Tony’s friend asked.

“Peter.”

“And he was a hall boy when you met?” Rhodey questioned, “Was he promoted?”

“Just under a month ago, to second footman.”

“Good Lord,” Rhodey laughed. “He’s been serving us meals this whole time, and I never even knew it.” He softened. “And you say he’s like a son to you?”

“I love him,” Tony said softly, “I love him like my own child.”

“I’m glad he makes you so happy, Tony,” Rhodes replied in a quiet voice. “Seriously, it had been bothering me for a while why you seemed so happy recently. I thought it was just the wedding, but it’s more than that. This child has certainly brought out the best of you.”

“I want him to be apart of my family,” Tony admit, he looked at Pepper, “Really part of our family, as my son. I just don’t know how quite yet.”

Pepper smiled at him. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. But until then, let’s focus on getting your boy back.”


	17. Beware

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, this was such a hard chapter to write!
> 
> Enjoy!

###  **Sunday, September 13, 1891**

It took Pepper some time to find the entrance to the servant hall. From the inside of the castle, the doors were hidden, so that guests wouldn’t see the servants, or even know that servants were there. Each house was different, and Raychester was very different from Laventhorpe in the respect that their servants entrances. She didn’t even know where to begin.

She knew she could just ask Tony, but where is the fun in that?

It was mid afternoon, and the gentleman were with Obadiah in the smoking room, where ladies were strictly off limits. Pepper was currently in the dining room, knowing there was likely to be an entrance there, and as it wasn’t a meal time, she would run into less servants on her way downstairs.

She ran her hands along the ornately decorated walls, pressing lightly, looking for doorways, until at last, a wall gave way under her fingertips, revealing the door into the downstairs.

It was like a whole different world behind the walls of the castle. Whereas the interior or the upstairs was beautiful, every sparkling detail meant to boast the family’s wealth, the downstairs seemed like an afterthought. Poorly lit, the walls and floor made out of cold stone. The air felt damp, and along the stairs there were long scrapes on the walls that had been worn down by servants carrying buckets and trays up and down the narrow passages. The stairs themselves almost felt like they were tilted forward, worn down by many generations of use with no repair.

As Pepper descended, picking up her skirts trying to avoid getting dirty enough to be noticed when she eventually went back upstairs to the gentlemen, the lights got brighter as she reached the servants quarters and the quiet kitchen. The only servant to be seen was a girl who stood at the sink, her hands paused halfway through her duty of washing the dishes, looking at her in awe, her lips parted in surprise.

Pepper simply smiled at her and moved on down the hall, deciding it was better to keep her reason for visiting a secret, at least until she found Peter. The hall was perfectly symmetrical, with doors to servants quarters lining the walls evenly spaced apart. She paused outside of one room, the only room with the door slightly ajar.

Peeking inside, she saw a young boy with a pale, freckled face and soft brown curls, sitting on the end of the bed, looking down at a book in his hands, his face pinched in concentration.

“Having trouble?” Pepper said softly.

The boy jumped, looking up at her, hastily standing at attention, throwing the book down on top of the bed sheets. “L-lady Virginia,” he stuttered. “How can I help you?”

Pepper stepped further into the room, closing the door softly behind her for privacy. “You can help me by telling me your name.”

The boy swallowed nervously. “P-peter, ma’am.”

The Lady smiled warmly. “Peter, you’re just the boy I’m looking for.”

“I-I am?”

“You’re the one my fiancé is so taken with.”

Peter’s face became several shades paler. “M-m’lady, I-I didn’t m-mean to, to, to- I-”

“It’s alright,” Pepper soothed, trying to give him comforting and reassuring looks “You’re not in any trouble, poor thing. May I sit?” She gestured to the bed.

“P-please, I don’t want you to get dust on your dress,” Peter insisted.

“I don’t mind,” Pepper promised, sitting down on the covers. She picked up the book the boy was reading, running her fingers over the beveled lettering. “ _Oliver Twist_? That’s an excellent book.”

The boy shuffled awkwardly between his feet. “I can’t... It’s too hard for me to read.”

She hummed in acknowledgement. “Tony didn’t get to finish his lessons, did he?”

“I didn’t want to stop seeing him,” Peter said instantly, “Really -”

“I understand,” Pepper said softly, “You were doing for both of your sake. It was the smart thing to do, especially given the circumstances, but I’m here to tell you that you don’t need to stay away any more.”

Peter blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Sit down, Peter,” She pat the space on the bed beside her.

“Please, m’lady it’s improper.”

“Did you sit in front of Tony?” Pepper asked, keeping her tone gentle.

The boy nodded hesitantly.

“Than you can sit in front of me.”

There was a moment where he was still, as if contemplating before he carefully sat himself down next to her on his bed. He was quiet, pulling nervously on his fingers waiting for her to talk.

“Do you know how he was before he met you?” She asked, then she laughed softly. “No of course you wouldn’t, you hadn’t met him yet.”

The corners of Peter’s mouth twitched upward, causing Pepper to smile. She could already tell he was the sweet boy that Tony described, even if he was too shy to show it right now.

“He was lonely,” She told him, “I worried about him constantly, when I wasn’t there with him. He lived in this big house all alone, with no one to talk to, and nothing to do but work. He was a little cold, he had all these walls put up. Then one day in July, I came to visit and he was changed. He was a completely different man, and I know now that that was just after he met you. And as time went on, and the more days he spent with you, I could feel and see him opening up more. It was amazing.”

There was a moment of silence before Peter spoke again, softly. “Did he tell you? Or did you find out?”

“He told me,” Pepper said, “He was having a hard time keeping his feelings hidden.”

“His feelings?”

“He loves you very much,” Pepper heard Peter take a sharp intake of breath at the declaration, “Not seeing you caused him pain, and not being able to show how much he missed you made that pain even worse.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Peter’s voice kept getting quieter and more hoarse, as though he was having trouble speaking.

“I know you didn’t,” Pepper reassured, “You did what you thought was best, I would have done the same if I were in that situation. It's a hard choice. You must be feeling the same way Tony did.”

The boy nodded. “I miss him.”

“Have you told anyone?”

He shook his head, “I never told anyone, but three of the other servants found out. Two of them are my friends, and I trust them.”

“And the third?”

“He hates me, he would definitely use it against me, but Mr. Hogan made him swear not to tell a soul.”

Pepper nodded, then reached out to take Peter’s hands in her own. “You know, on a number of occasions Tony told me and his best friend, James Rhodes, that we were his closest friends and companions. You probably don’t realize it, but he sees you the same way. If anyone else were to learn about this, and express any disapproval, Tony wouldn’t care so much. He doesn’t care about any damage to his reputation, he just wants to be happy.”

She tilted the boy’s chin upward to look her in the eyes. “Me and James both know about you, and neither of us care. In fact we’re happy that Tony’s found someone who he loves so much.”

“What are you saying?” Peter whispered.

“I’m saying, that you don’t have to, but if you really wanted to see Tony again, there wouldn’t be as much danger as before.”

The boy looked at her for a moment, his expression not revealing anything, just staring at her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. He looked as though perhaps he didn’t quite comprehend what he was being told.

“What?” He said softly, the sound barely loud enough for Pepper to heard.

“I said,” She replied slowly and gently, “If you want to see Tony again, resume your lessons, or talk to him, whatever you do, you can. James and I don’t care, we want to see both of you happy.”

“What about the Baron?” Peter asked.

“Don’t worry about him,” Pepper said, “Let us older folk deal with him. You and Tony both deserve to be happy.”

Finally, Peter smiled. The grin stretched across his face, causing his eyes to crinkle. A tear slipped out from underneath his eyelid and trailed down his face. He lifted a hand to wipe it away. “Thank you, Lady Virginia.”

Pepper, still holding the boy’s face in her hand, leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Please, call me Pepper.”

“Pepper?”

“It’s Tony’s nickname for me.” 

He laughed, and Pepper stood up, running her palms over her skirts to flatten any wrinkles. “I’d better get going now, we both have things to do,” as she moved towards the door, she looked over her shoulder, “I hope to see you again soon?”

Peter gave her one last smile, “Yes.”

###  **Monday, September 14, 1891**

Peter woke up the next morning as he did every morning. One of the benefits of being promoted meant that he didn’t have to wake up as early as he had before, especially after Eugene had started running morning errands in Jacob Ionello’s absence (which Peter had only found out was the source for the Valet’s strange behavior after the groom had returned from visiting his mother.) With his new position he had to wake up at half past six o’clock, and be ready for the day within the half hour, so he could deliver the Cook morning tea at seven.

Though Ned complained regularly about waking up so early, even after having working downstairs for so long, Peter found that his new morning routine was much less strenuous than his previous on had been, and he had been adjusting quite well in the past month.

Peter was quite happy this morning, after the conversation he had had with Lady Potts, he had decided he would attempt to see Tony later that day, during their normal time. He was a little nervous, but knowing there were less people to avoid on the way upstairs and into Tony’s study, eased Peter’s nerves greatly. He was looking forward to seeing the Earl again, as it had been over a month now since Peter had decided to stop seeing him. He missed him more than words could properly express.

He had just finished delivering the tea, taking a turn out of the Cook’s room when he had nearly ran into an imposing dark figure in front of him. 

Due to the early fall lighting and the poorly lit hallway, it took Peter a moment to realize it was Baron Stane.

“Lord Stane,” Peter said surprised, _What are you doing down here?_ Peter felt the question on the tip of his tongue “How can I help you?” he said instead.

“A word,” The Baron said stiffly, before turning and heading down the hall, not making any physical indication that Peter should follow him, though he could tell he was meant to.

The man lead Peter down the hall and up the stairs which lead to the outside of the castle, at the servants entrance stopping outside of the gate. None of the other servants were around, and Peter couldn’t decide if that made him grateful or more worried.

Peter passed through the gate, and before either of them could say a word, the Baron struck Peter across the face.

He nearly fell from the shock and the force of the man’s hand. Peter unconsciously reached out and gripped the edge of the fence. Once he had managed to recover somewhat, he turned back to look at the man in shock and fear.

“Who do you think you are?” Stane spat fiercely, “consorting with my nephew. The audacity!”

Peter released a shaky breath, backing up to that his back was pressed against the gate, he could feel the rough texture of the wrought iron grabbing onto the fibers of his shirt. “Who - Who told you?”

“You dare speak so plainly to me?!” The Baron raised his hand as if to strike Peter again, and the boy flinched backward in anticipation. The hand never landed on his cheek, instead falling back to the Baron’s side. “I found out purely on my own, one of the servants tipped me off that you were meeting with the Lady of Laventhorpe yesterday, is that true?”

Peter saw no point in lying, “Y-yes, sir.”

“What did you speak of?” Stane demanded.

Peter said nothing, desperately reaching for the best words to use.

“Tell me!” The man shouted, and Peter flinched again, “And it had better be the truth!”

“S-she came to tell me I should s-see the m-Master again,” Peter stuttered. The man only laughed at that.

“A likely story.”

“I-it’s the truth, sir,” Peter promised, “I swear it.”

“Well, regardless of whether or not it is, you will by no means go back to seeing your ‘Master’ again.”

Peter felt a wave of defiance build up in him, and before he could think about what he was saying, he challenged the Baron. “And why shouldn’t I?”

The man scoffed. “What are you, stupid? You are dirt. You are filth and you are the lowest of the low. You should know your place in this world, and you had better stay there. Lord Stark is your superior, in every right. You don’t even reserve the right to speak to him. You job is to stay as hidden and as far away from your superiors so they might never have the displeasure of seeing your filthy, lowly face.

“We nobles have a deep understanding of purity,” he continued. “Anthony is like a fine, thoroughbred horse. Born from the purest of blood, and raised as a proper noble heir, and groomed for success. I will not have lowly fifth like you coming in and ruining all the hard work his parents put into him in hopes that he would be a worthy heir.”

The Baron than reached forward and grabbed Peter by the arm, getting uncomfortably close, and his grip so hard it hurt.

“If you so much as think about speaking to your Master again, I will see to it that you no longer have a job at this house. Or perhaps if I deem it necessary you’ll meet a far more grim fate.” Stane threatened. “Anthony may think he has the power in this house, but he is still young, and untrained. I am the one really in charge of the estate, and I always have been. Besides, he should know that associating with a lowly boy like you isn’t what’s best for him.”

He let go of Peter, and turned to leave.

“And what if Tony decides that being happy is what’s best for him?” Peter challenged, knowing the use of Tony’s name was a bold choice. “What if he decides to come speak to me?”

Before Peter could register the mad stomping towards him, he was being pushed, and he lost his balance, falling into the mud.

“Than as all rebellious and unruly horses, he will be... taken care of.”

And with a swift turn, the Baron disappeared back into the castle.

Peter uneasily made his way towards his room. Luckily no one was in the halls, so he made it through the downstairs unnoticed. Once in his room, he changed his clothes, setting the now muddy outfit aside. He would wash it himself, so the laundry maid wouldn’t have so much extra work to do.

Once he was dressed in fresh clothes, he looked up at the clock. Noting that he had another half hour until the servants were called for breakfast. He sat down on his bed, trying to process what had just happened, beginning to comprehend, with escalating fear, the threats that Baron Stane had made.

All the fear that Peter had felt while he had separated himself from Tony was now very real and very justified. Knowing that it was now impossible for him to see Tony today, if ever, Peter felt as if his heart was being crushed into a fine powder.

He leaned over, placing his face in his hands, and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this is when the wheels really start turning...


	18. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait for such a short chapter!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and your kind comments. I know it's a little late for Thanksgiving, but I am so grateful for being able to write this, and getting so much support for writing what I love.
> 
> The next chapter will hopefully be posted soon

_I am scared._

_I wish I cud just talk to Mister Stark one more time, just to explan everything to him. He must feel upset, or confused. I told Lady Virginia that i wud visit him and i never came, becus of ~~the Baron~~._

_I dont even noe if its safe to write his name._

_He scares me, and i dont noe what he will do if i try to tell ~~Tony~~ Mister Stark. Im afraid he mite hurt him, and I cant let that happen._

_Its just like it was befor. Im too scared to see him, even one last time._

_I wish it didnt have to be this way._

_-Peter Parker_

_Sept. 16_

###  **Thursday, September 17, 1891**

“For the last time, Obadiah, the wedding is being held at Laventhrope, not at Raychester.” Tony grumbled, messaging his temple. He was sitting in the smoking room with his uncle. Mister Rhodes and Pepper were taking a turn in the gardens, and at the moment Tony wanted nothing more than to join them.

Although really, anything would be better than sitting here, discussing his wedding with his uncle.

“I just think it makes more sense is all,” Obadiah continued. “Raychester is much more grand than Laventhrope - it would really be a good chance to show off the family’s wealth.”

“Those who were invited to the wedding are already well aware of our family’s wealth,” Tony said. “A show of wealth is hardly what matters at the moment. Besides, I thought you were a stickler for tradition? The wedding is traditionally held at the bride’s and her family’s estate. Very rarely is it held in the groom’s home. And anyway, all the invitations have already been sent. There isn’t anything that needs to be changed, and nothing will be changed from this point onward.”

“Well if you didn’t want my opinion, then you shouldn’t have asked for it.”

“I haven’t!” Tony was all but yelling at this point. He stood up from his seat and made his way towards the window. Outside, he could see his fiancé and his friend laughing as they walked through the hedge maze. His heart yearned to join them, his feet nearly taking action to get him there. “I didn’t even expect to see you before the wedding, and when you did decide to show up, most of the decisions on the wedding had already been made. We neither need, nor want your input on the matter. I’m getting married in just over a week now, and neither Pepper nor I are going to have time to make any changes.”

Obadiah’s face hardened. “This isn’t the way your father would have done things. If I were in your shoes -”

“You are not in my shoes,” Tony barked. “You are not, and will never be the head of Raychester Castle. And I am not my father, I am my own person and I will run my estate as I see fit.”

Obadiah glared at him, and Tony held his gaze, his chin raised defiantly. Neither of them spoke for several moments, before Tony decided to break the silence yet again.

“I’m going outside to spend time with my fiancé before she leaves tomorrow. WE may speak again at dinner if you feel so inclined.

They Tony made his way to the door, leaving his uncle behind in the smoking room.

###### 

Later that evening, Tony walked the corridors with Pepper. The darkness in the hallways, and the silence in the house calming his nerves, which were still very frazzled from earlier. However when his fiancé spoke, it caused his heart to ache.

“Have you seen Peter yet?” She asked.

“No,” Tony admitted, staring down at their feet as the tread across the dark red carpet runner leading them down the hallway. “I have waited every day, at our usual hour, in the loneliness of my study, and he still hasn’t come.”

Pepper frowned, pulling somewhat anxiously at her fingers. “It’s strange,” she spoke softly, not wanting to be overheard. “When we spoke on Sunday he seemed so eager. He told me he would see you the next day.”

“Well he never came.”

“It seems oddly out of character, doesn’t it?” Pepper wondered. They had stopped now, standing still in the near silent hallway, the faces framed with shadows in the light cast from the oil lamps. “I don’t know him as well as you do, but one would have thought he would come.”

“Well, clearly I didn’t know him very well either,” Tony’s words were filled with sadness, and a hint of betrayal. “Maybe I misjudged him. We had only spent a month together, after all. That’s hardly enough time to get to know a person.”

“And yet you’ve become so attached to him.”

Tony scoffed. “He must not have felt the same way.”

“He did,” Pepper’s voice was firm, reassuring. “Please Tony, don’t lose this boy over what I’m sure is some kind of misunderstanding. Your situation is... unique. It’s different, and to so many people that means it’s wrong, and that can be really scary, especially to a fourteen year old boy. Give it time.”

Tony sighed, and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Okay, I’ll try not to worry about it until after the wedding. I’ll wait in my study everyday until then.”

Pepper smiled at him, moving to press herself into his arms, which he instinctively moved to wrap around her small frame. “I’ll miss you.”

“It’s only a week, love.” Tony assured her. “Then we’ll be married, and you’ll see me so much, you’ll wish you would be rid of me.”

She laughed softly, “Never.”

###### 

_To sir,_

_I am writing to you again, to inform you that I will indeed be in need of your services. My nephew has proven that he cannot be trusted, and I am going to need you and your men to step in._

_Please write back letting me know how much I will owe you. I suspect I will need you to deal with his new wife as well._

_As usual, please reply discreetly._

_Obadiah Stane_


	19. It Was a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the next chapter.
> 
> Chapter Updates might be a little few and far between, given that as I finish up this story, I am also writing my Big Bang! So keep a lookout for that Spring of 2020! I am really excited for it, and it will be my first time using a beta!

###  **Monday, September 21, 1891**

Eugene had been carrying out his work with a smirk on his face for the past week. Ever since the Baron had made his way downstairs, on Eugene’s word, and sorted out Peter Parker, life had been largely going as usual. Peter, though still a footman, was back to his quiet reserved self, and Eugene was confident that he would never again dare to venture upstairs to meet with the master again. On top of that Eugene held pride in the fact that he had not only stopped their affair of sorts before it got out of hand, and eventually into the papers, but his act of heroism would likely grant him a promotion, given time - all was well.

He had just collected his boots from the new hall boy, and was on his way to collect the mail and paper, so he could dry them out before he went upstairs to prepare the Master for the day. After retrieving the correspondence, Eugene carefully looked over who they were addressed to (which was important for when guests were in the house, but was also a skill that would serve him once Lady Virginia moved in) and where they were coming from.

There were two letters for the Master from Laventhrope, as well as several from Woodsford, Lyonhall, and Stormholme. There was a letter addressed to Mister Rhodes, from the military, which Eugene separated from the others, and there was a letter to Baron Stane from -

Eugene stopped in his tracks, noticing the return address on the envelope. It wasn't anything particular peculiar, not to the average person. Even Eugene didn’t know it’s true significance, but underneath the handwritten address was a faint watermark - it’s color just barely differentiating itself from the color of the envelope - depicting a series of circles, interlocking in an intricate pattern. More specifically - ten rings.

His heart leapt to his throat. When he agreed to partner with the Baron he hadn’t thought - 

Eugene knew the Ten Rings from a short period of time he spent in London. Most people were unaware of their presence, or just didn’t want to linger on the topic for very long. They were a gang, similar to the mafia, with a complex moral code. They worked for hire - anyone with the right connections and a certain amount of money could get them to do just about anything - especially kill. The group was so under the radar, the police could never know where they were, or who they were working for. Eugene had seen their insignia only one time before - stained with blood onto a brick wall, the only remnants from a hit that took place a few months prior to him seeing it.

And now it was in his hands, hidden on an envelope.

If the group was hired to kill the Baron, why would they bother to send him a letter... unless the Baron had hired them himself.

Eugene tucked the letter into his pocket, making sure not to crease it, not wanting to give away, should the Baron receive it later on, that it’s delivery had been delayed.

He needed to find Peter.

###### 

Peter was bringing back dishes from breakfast when Eugene found him in the hall. Peter himself was already having a long day, and he hadn’t even gotten to lunch yet.

It had been another long meal, standing at the ready, watching Mister Stark and his guests eat their breakfast, wanting so much just to break the silence and speak with the Master at ease once again. Several times he had caught all three of the men stealing glances at him, and took notice, as heat rushed to his face, that all three of them knew who he was, and his relationship with the Master, but neither Mister Stark, nor Mister Rhodes knew that Baron Stane knew, and Baron Stane was unaware that Mister Rhodes knew, and Peter was not of the authority to tell any of them about any of this, so they sat in silence, not acknowledging Peter, for the sake of appearances.

It was exhausting.

The last thing Peter needed at the moment was to be confronted, yet again, by Eugene, who Peter was inclined to believe was the reason for all this anonymity. Who else besides Hogan, Ned, and Michelle knew about Peter’s visits with the Master? More specifically, which of the people who knew about the visits did Peter trust the least?

“Parker,” Eugene called out, “I need to speak with you.”

“Not now,” Peter replied, his voice passive and uninterested. He suspected he might have also sounded a bit forlorn, which would have also been accurate. He brushed past the Valet and continued on his way to the kitchens with his armload of dishes.

“Peter!” Eugene called after him. He kept his voice low, as though he didn’t wish to be heard. What struck Peter was odd was that Eugene actually sounded concerned rather than scolding or angry. “Please, it’s important.”

Peter sighed, turning to face him reluctantly. “What is it?”

Eugene glanced around them, nervously. “Not... not here.”

Peter took note of Eugene’s body language. It was concerning to him at uneasy he looked, how anxious he was about whatever needed to be said.

“Fine then,” Peter said, “In a moment Ned, Michelle, and Mr. Hogan will be counting and checking the silver and the china. I assume that the Master doesn’t wish to go out today?”

Eugene shook his head.

“Then you can join us and help, whatever needs to be said can be said in front of them.”

Eugene nodded in agreement. “Where should I meet you then?”

“By the safe,” Peter turned and began his making his way back to the kitchen. “We just have to finish washing the dishes, then we’ll all meet there.”

###### 

Eugene found them about halfway through the counting of the silver, clearly having underestimated how long it would take Peter and Michelle to wash the dishes. He came with the letter in his pocket, and his heart in his throat. When he had resolved to tell Peter, he hadn’t been prepared to tell his employer as well. Nevertheless, the truth needed to be told, regardless of whether or not it cost Eugene his job.

When Eugene entered room, all four of them looked up at him, before resuming their work.

“Eighty-six soup spoons, all accounted for,” said Ned.

“Twenty-seven candlesticks, all accounted for,” said Michelle. “I’ve set aside four that need polishing.”

Peter continued to look at Eugene expectantly. “You had something you needed to tell me?” he coaxed.

“Yes,” Eugene lowered his voice, checking to make sure the door was closed before pulling out the letter from his pocket. “Baron Stane received a letter this morning - well, _he_ didn’t receive it.”

Mr. Hogan without looking up from his work, replied in a harsh tone. “And _why,_ hasn’t the Baron received his letter?”

“Because, I have reason to believe it might be from the Ten Rings.”

The Butler’s eyebrows shot up. He stopped thumbing through butter knives and looked at Eugene in disbelief. Michelle gasped, while Peter and Ned continued counting, exchanging confused looks.

“How do you know that?” Hogan asked.

Eugene showed him the watermark underneath the return address. “That’s their insignia, I’ve seen it before.”

Mr. Hogan took the letter carefully, while Peter finally set down his work. “What’s the Ten Rings?”

“They’re killers,” Michelle explained. “Not a lot of people know about them, but they’re basically hired guns. Why would Baron Stane receive a letter from them?”

“Wouldn’t we know if we read it?” Ned asked, eyeing the envelope.

Mr. Hogan shook his head. “I doubt it, it would be stupid of them to include any details through a letter, and the Ten Rings aren’t sloppy. The letter is likely all code, letting the Baron know whether or not they accept, or how much money he would need to give them. Besides if we open it, and the Baron finds it, we could all find ourselves in a lot of trouble.”

“Should we call the police?” said Michelle.

“With what proof?” Eugene asked. “Mr. Hogan just said that there would be nothing incriminating in the letter - we don’t even know what the Baron wanted them to do.”

“Well if he paid a group of criminals to do something for him we can assume it wasn’t something legal.” Peter argued.

“What if he wants them to kill his lordship?” Ned inquired.

Peter made a distressed sound in the back of his throat.

Mr. Hogan held out the letter to Peter, “The Master needs to know about this.”

Peter looked at him dumbfounded. “Me? I can’t go to him, if I do the Baron will find out, and now we know just how dangerous he is.”

“He won’t find out,” Eugene promised. He tugged nervously on his fingers. “The only reason he knew in the first place is because of me.”

“You told the Baron about the Master and Mr. Parker?” Hogan questioned, with a dangerous edge to his voice.

“No!” Eugene insisted. “He already knew, somehow. I don’t know. I only told him when Lady Virginia came downstairs to speak to Peter. He had approached me before that, and asked me to tell him if anything happened involving Peter and the Master.”

Eugene turned to look at Peter, pleadingly. “I promise, if you go to the Master... I won’t tell.”

Peter’s mouth hung open in shock though Eugene couldn’t tell if it was because of his admission to his part in Baron Stane’s plot, or if it was because he had agreed to help him, even after he so adamantly was against him for so long.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Peter took the letter from Mr. Hogan and carefully tucked it in his pocket.

“You should during your usual hour,” Mr. Hogan advised. “The Baron and Mister Rhodes are always out of the house during that time, while Tony works in his office.”

“He’s been waiting for me,” Peter said softly, “Lady Potts said he would be.”

Eugene left the room shortly after that, worried that staying away for too long might stir suspicion - from whom and for what reason he couldn’t quite explain, but he preferred to err on the safer side of things, given the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't come after me for all this police work/criminal stuff. I am taking a lot of creative freedom with this to fit my needs for the plot.
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	20. Grandfather's Clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year, New Chapter!
> 
> Again, I have no idea how Victorian law enforcement was - I could find very little on it, so I am taking a LOT of creative liberties.
> 
> EDIT: There was an issue with the chapter being posted twice... hopefully it got fixed before you clicked on the story, but otherwise, just refresh the page and it should be alright_

###  **Monday, September 21, 1891**

Tony stared at the clock as the minute hand ticked past. Half past two, once again, and Tony knew that just as he had not been able to work at this time for more than a month, he was not about to get anything done today either.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

He opened his census book to mark in the taxes, which had come in the day before. As he thumbed through the pages, the book naturally opened to where a note had marked the page - the page he had been working on during the 12th of August. The note, of course, was Peter’s note, telling him they must never see each other again. He took a moment to run a finger across the wobbly handwriting, feeling a pain in his heart, before turning the page.

Tony had just picked up his pen to begin to drudge through his work, when there was a soft knock at the door.

He froze. Both his uncle and Mister Rhodes had a demanding kind of knock, one that didn’t allow for Tony to be able to ignore it. Mr. Hogan’s knock was purposeful, and almost measured, so Tony could always easily distinguish when his butler was at the door. When the knock was soft, it almost definitely meant that...

Tony stood quickly making his way to the door. However, it opened before he could get there, and Peter Parker quickly slipped into the room, closing the door swiftly, yet softly behind him.

“Peter -” Tony began to speak, before the boy cut him off.

“I- there’s something you need to know,” he said shakily extending his hand. He gripped a letter in his fingers.

Tony took the envelope from him, but didn’t pay it much attention. “Peter, it’s been nearly a month -”

“I know,” his voice shook a little. He kept glancing back at the door, nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“Peter,” Tony couldn’t stop repeating the boy’s name in a state of shock, “Peter what’s - what’s wrong? Is something wrong?”

The boy nodded, gesturing to the letter in Tony’s hands. “We received that this morning,” he explained, “It was addressed to Baron Stane, but Eu- Mr. Thompson noticed a symbol underneath the return address. It’s a symbol of the Ten Rings.”

“The Ten Rings?” Tony questioned.

“A criminal group in London,” Peter continued, “Mr. Thompson and Ms. Jones, the Scullery Maid, say that they work for hire, and they’re killers, sir.”

At the word ‘sir’, Tony furrowed his eyebrows. He had hoped they were passed the stage of formalities, but then again, Peter had always been the one to remain polite. It had also been over a month since they had last spoken. He elected to ignore it for the time being.

“What are killers doing writing a letter to Baron Stane?” Tony asked “He’s not in trouble is he?”

“No,” Peter said, “but we think you might be.”

Tony looked back down at the letter, turning it in his hands. Peter’s admission caused his heart to race, in a moment of fear for his self-preservation, but he noticed that the letter was still sealed.

“Why don’t we open it, and find out?” Tony asked, moving to sit down at his desk.

Peter hesitated before following him, to sit at the opposite side of the desk, resting his hands on the surface. He glanced back at the doors. “Mr. Hogan says that we shouldn’t open it, lest the Baron find out about it.”

“Then I will make sure the Baron does not find out about it,” Tony assured him, taking his letter opener and running it underneath the flap of the envelope. 

He pulled out the paper from within, which much resembles a hotel stationary. The letter was typed with a typewriter, presumably so no handwriting could be traced. The message itself was very brief.

“Ten thousand pounds,” Tony read. Before turning the letter over too look at the back, which was bare. He then looked inside the envelope - still nothing.

“That’s all?” Peter asked.

“Apparently that’s all they had to say,” Tony sighed in defeat.

Peter looked down at his hands, locking his thumbs underneath the ledge of the table, “ maybe we were wrong. Maybe there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Tony shook his head. “No, it is very suspicious. I see no reason why this letter should be so brief, unless they thought anything else might be incriminating. However, that means that this isn’t enough to be incriminating, and if I were to call the police, they would have nothing to go on.”

“Maybe we could show them the envelope?” Peter suggested, “Surely they might recognize the mark.”

“Maybe,” Tony noted. “I know someone who works closely with the police, a friend of a friend. I can reach out to him and see if he thinks they can do anything about it, but that will take a bit of time.”

“But you could be in danger,” Peter protested, there was a high level of distress in his voice, and Tony could see him gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles white.

He reached out and placed his hands over Peter’s, stroking his thumbs over the back of Peter’s hands. “It will be fine,” he soothed. “This man is coming for the wedding, he should be in town a day or so before that, and we can talk then.”

Peter shook his head, his gaze cast down to the floor, “You said it yourself, it’s not enough to go on. What if something happens to you before then?”

“Nothing will happen,” Tony assured him.

“You don’t know that,” Peter sighed, and looked up, finally making eye contact with Tony. they were watery and red.

“I’m scared,” he whispered. “Last Sunday, not yesterday, the one before that, Lady Virginia came to speak with me.”

“I know,” Tony said, “she told me.”

“Well,” Peter swallowed,“The next day, Baron Stane found me, downstairs, and told me that he knew that we had been seeing each other, and that I was not to see you again. And he said... well, I asked him what he would do if you decided to see me instead, and he - he made it sound like if you did that, he would kill you. And... and now -”

Tony stood, walking around the desk and kneeling on the ground beside Peter's chair, and took the boy’s hands completely into his own, picking up the soothing motions he had been doing earlier. The boy sniffed, sounding as though he were on the verge of tears “Peter, I need you to tell me everything that he told you.”

“I-”

“Tell me everything Peter, I need to know.”

“He, he said that I was ruining you, that you were pure, and that by us meeting with one another, I was tainting you with my f-filth. He said that he didn’t want all the hard work that y-your parents had put into making you the perfect heir to go to waste. He said that if I saw you again, I could lose my job, or- or worse.”

“Worse?” Tony pressed.

A tear slid down Peter’s cheek. “He said that, if he deemed it necessary, I would meet a ‘far more grim fate’”

Anger sparked to life within Tony’s chest. He squeezed Peter’s hands, in what he hoped was reassurance before pushing for more, “Is there anything else?”

Peter nodded, sniffling again, “He said that you thought you were the one in charge, when it was really him, and then he said if you came to speak to me you would be ‘taken care of’.”

Tony closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at Peter, letting go of the boy’s hands to cup his cheeks, thumps swiping away tears from underneath his eyes. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, “I’m sorry that I had to push for you to do so.”

“No,” Peter said, “You need to know, you deserve to know. I’m sorry I never came, I should have.”

Tony shook his head, “No, you were right not to come, it would have been dangerous, but I’m glad you’re here now.”

The boy let out a breath, his eyes flickering nervously to the door. Tony moved his hand down to rest on the boy’s shoulders. “Enough scary talk,” he insisted, “What have you been up to since we last saw each other? Have you been busy with you new position?”

Peter smiled weakly, “Surprisingly, not nearly as busy as I was before. I have less to do, but what I do now is more important, I suppose. I have a lot of free time, and nothing to do with it.”

“I hope you’ve been practicing your reading and writing,” Tony teased.

“I have,” said Peter, “I bought a new book, but it’s too hard for me.”

“Maybe we can read it together,” The Earl suggested.

Peter laughed softly, “I was hoping so. I’ve been practicing my letters, and I think they’re much better.”

“I hope you’ve been practicing your grammar, too.” said Tony, “although I treasure the last note I received from you, there is a lot of room for improvement.”

The boy shoved playfully at his shoulder, “Ned - Mr. Leeds - he’s been trying to teach me, but he’s not a very good teacher. He gets frustrated easily.”

“Are you trying to say that I am a good teacher?”

“You’re the best teacher.”

Tony smiled, looking on at Peter, trying to take in his face. He looked happy, but he could tell the boy was still worried, and was only proven when the boy cast his eyes towards the door once again. Tony looked up at the clock, noting that it had been nearly a half hour since Peter had entered the room.

“I’ve missed you,” Tony said softly.

Peter smiled, “I’ve missed you, too.”

“But I can’t, with an easy heart, ask you to come again tomorrow.” 

“No,” Peter’s voice was soft, just above a whisper. “It’s not safe.”

Tony nodded. “Once we have all this worked out, and I am married, everything will be back to normal.”

“No it won’t,” Peter said. “It might not ever be normal.”

“Then we’ll make a new normal,” Tony insisted, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Peter nodded, and leaned forward hesitantly. Tony leaned forward as well, wrapping him in his arms. 

“I’m scared,” Peter whispered.

“I know,” Tony replied, “I am too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh there are ten chapters left, but there is still so much yet to happen...
> 
> Thank you all for being so supportive of this journey!


	21. The Yeoman's Wedding Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so it's been a minute.
> 
> Long story short, I was scrambling to get my life together with school, my big bang, and on top of all that I joined the school musical. I was under a lot of stress, and four panic attacks later I realized something had to give. This story got put on hold, and I am sad to say that I have quit Irondad Big Bang. 
> 
> One day I will finish the story I was going to post for big bang, in fact I'm a pretty decent way through it and can probably start posting it, but I couldn't handle the stress of reaching a word count by a specific date. Not to mention I was still several thousand words behind. IT WILL BE POSTED THOUGH, just not part of Big Bang.
> 
> Also I'm sorry in advance that this chapter is pretty short. It was such a hard chapter for me to write, so in the end I just decided to plow through and just get past it. I still hope you enjoy it though, and no it's not a complete garbage fire of a chapter. I'm proud of what I wrote and I hope you are too, it's just that I didn't want to squeeze meanless or redundant scenes just to reach a word count.
> 
> Glad to be back, and enjoy!

###  **Saturday, September 26, 1891**

Tony had wished his wedding day would have brought him more joy.

He was thrilled to finally be married to the love of his life, and he knew how much work Pepper and her mother had put into both the ceremony and the reception. He himself had put in his fair share of work as well, and there had been a lot of anticipation leading up to this day.

Which was why Tony was so upset as he rode towards the church, sat in his carriage next to Rhodey, sitting across from his traitorous uncle. Today should have been filled with happiness, and love and anticipation, and instead the butterflies in his stomach were born from fear.

He hadn’t told either Pepper or Rhodey - he was especially against telling his soon-to-be wife. He wanted her to be able to enjoy the day fully - she deserved it more than anyone. However, the fear that Tony felt was almost suffocating. As much as he wanted to keep the news of Obidiah’s betrayal to himself, he still wished he could share the burden. He felt that he would feel better if one of them knew. Still, he couldn’t do that to either of them.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Rhodey, who placed a comforting hand over his.

“Why do you seem so anxious?” Rhodey asked him quietly.

Tony swallowed, and forced a smile. “Nerves,” he insisted, “That’s all.”

“There’s no need to be nervous,” his friend insisted. “You and Pepper must be one of the happiest couples I’ve seen in a long time.”

“And well matched,” Obidiah said, loudly interrupting what Tony foolishly thought was a private conversation. “This match will bring Raychester a lot of money.”

It took everything in Tony’s power not to glare, cringe, or show any outward signs that he knew of Obadiah’s betrayal. Of course that’s all his uncle cared about - money. Tony wondered if maybe it was Pepper’s money his uncle was waiting on to pay off that terrorist group in London. The thought only angered him more, and he tried in vain to calm himself down.

Luckily, both Rhodey and his uncle must have read his anger as anxiety, because they continued to try and persuade him not to be nervous.

Looking out the window, trying to focus on anything else, Tony could see the church, not too far off in the distance, and his stomach twisted. Pepper would be in her own carriage at this point, probably farther away from the church than Tony was now, since he was the groom, and by tradition he had to arrive first. She would be wearing her wedding dress, which Tony had obviously not seen. He was interested to see what she had picked out, though he knew it wouldn’t matter. She looked stunning in everything she wore. Pepper would wear a long veil to conceal her face - again, tradition, though one that Tony didn’t see as necessary, he had already seen, and fallen in love with his bride’s face.

He knew the church was rather stunning. It wasn’t the church he attended every Sunday - it wasn’t even the church Pepper attended - but they had toured various churches together over the summer, trying to find one that was close enough to Laventhorpe that the reception wouldn’t be too far away for both the couple and the guests. They had chosen a church that was quite old, though very elaborate in design. If Tony had to guess, he would say it was built during the Tudor period.

They were closer now, and Tony could see the large congregation of guests gathered outside, and before he knew it his carriage was stopped, the door opened, and he was stepping outside, ready to head into the church, and await his bride.

###### 

The ceremony was beautiful. Tony had nearly forgotten all about Obadiah’s looming threat, he was so focused on his wife, in all her beauty.

They were now back at Laventhorpe, positioned next to each other in the entry hall, welcoming and thanking guests as they entered and made their way to the dining room for the breakfast. Pepper’s arm was looped in his, and she held onto her bouquet. Her wedding dress was a beautiful white silk, with a slim silhouette, and large mutton sleeves, following the latest fashion. Tony quite liked it, without many layers of petticoats, he could be closer to her side.

The delirious joy of being married was quickly washed away, when Obadiah approached to shake their hands and offer Tony congratulations.

“May you both have a prosperous, and happy future,” Obadiah said, before turning away and heading further inside Laventhorpe. In any other circumstance, Tony would have thought the statement to be a friendly gesture. Now he knew better. 

Obadiah had mentioned his future. A future which, if the letter Peter had showed him was any indication, the man himself was planning to cut tragically short. It was the opposite of kindness, it was taunting. His uncle probably was reeling in the irony.

He looked over at Pepper, and she looked up at him, offering a smile. She was so happy, unaware of the brewing darkness underlying the happy day.

Tony wanted this future. He wanted to live in a world where Pepper was his wife, where his best friend visited often, and where Peter was comfortable at least visiting him again - unless... if Tony offered...

He looked up, back to the guests passing by, offering congratulations. He needed to focus on the reception, and getting his bride safely back to Laventhorpe. He needed to speak to -

“Congratulations, Lord Anthony.” said a voice, and once Tony pulled himself from his thoughts, he recognized the man’s face. It was James Barnes, a friend of Steve’s. In fact Steve and Margaret weren’t too far behind him. “And congratulations to you too, Lady Virginia.”

“Thank you, Mister Barnes.” Pepper said, smiling. 

“Thank you for coming,” Tony added on. The man turned to head inside, and Tony called out - not loudly to draw attention to himself. He only needed the attention of Mister Barnes. “James, might I have a word with you, later on today?”

He looked confused, but he nodded. “Of course, just come and find me.”

Tony nodded, and turned his attention back to his guests.

###### 

After they received their guests, there was the traditional breakfast. Tony sat by Pepper’s side, eyeing Obidiah, who was strategically placed as far away from Tony, and more importantly Pepper, as possible. Tony hoped that his uncle didn’t notice or think too hard on his placement at the table. 

After breakfast there was a reception, with dancing and music. Pepper busied herself with talking to her relatives, and Tony snuck away, spotting James Barnes in the corner of the room, speaking to Lord Rogers and his wife. Tony pulled him aside, down a quiet hallway.

“What did you need to speak with me about?” He asked.

“You’re a police officer,” Tony said frankly, and immediately felt he was being too brash. However, he quickly dismissed the idea. The subject of Obadiah’s betrayal had been a weight on his shoulders all throughout his wedding day, and he needed to have the situation handled as soon as possible. “I... I have a problem.”

Barnes furrowed his eyebrows.

“Have you heard of the Ten Rings?” Tony questioned.

“Of course,” Barnes said. “I mean... I don’t work in London, but they’re notorious.”

Tony pulled the letter from where he concealed it in his inner coat pocket, handing it to Barnes, and wordlessly pointed to the watermarked symbol behind the return address.

Barnes gasp quietly. “Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t, one of my servants did. He gave it to me out of suspicion. It’s addressed to my uncle.”

“Is the letter still inside?”

Tony nodded.

Barnes removed the letter, and glanced over it. “Listen, Anthony. I don’t work in London, but I know someone who does. I can pass this onto him, and have him look into it. He can probably send someone to your estate too, to be safe.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Tony said, “What’s this man’s name?”

“Nicholas Fury.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @fictionart24


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